'By  T-TENKINS    MAINS 

<~S  *-> 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


THE    STRIFE 
OF  THE  SEA 

T.    JENKINS     HAINS 

AUTHOR        OF        "THE         WIND-JAMMERS,"        ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
THE  BAKER  &  TAYLOR  CO. 

33-3?  East  Seventeenth  Sf.,   Union  Sq.,  North 


Copyright,    1903,    by    THE    BAKER   &    TAYLOR   CO. 

Copyright,  1901  and  1902,  by  HARPER  &  BROS. 
Copyright,  1902  and  1903,  by  THE  SUCCESS  Co. 
Copyright,  1902  and  1903,  by  THK  INDEPENDENT. 
Copyright,  1903,  by  THE  BUTTERICK  PUB.  Co.  (LTD.) 

Published  October,  1903. 


TO 

ROBERT    MACKAY 


THE  OLD  MAN  OF  SAND  KEY, 

THE  OUTCAST 

THE  SEA  DOG, 

THE  CAPE  HORNERS,          . 

THE  LOGGERHEAD, 

THE  WHITE  FOLLOWER,    . 

KING  ALBICORE, 

THE  NIBBLERS, 

JOHNNY  SHARK, 

A  TRAGEDY  OP  THE  SOUTH  ATLANTIC,    . 

IN  THE  WAKE  OP  THE  WEATHER-CLOTH, 

vii 


PAGK 
11 

87 
77 
101 
135 
166 
199 
227 
251 
277 
313 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


CLAWING  OFF  THE  CAPE Frontispiece 

THE  GREAT  SHAPE  SAILED  FOR  THE 

TOP  OF  TIIK  BUOY,  .  .  .  Facing  Page  44 
FULL  INTO  THE  CENTER  KING  ALBI- 

COKE  TORE  His  WAY,  .  .  .  "  "214 
TIIE  LINE  WAS  WHIZZING  OUT,  .  "  "  300 


THE 

OLD  HAN 

OF 

SANDKEY 


THE  STRIFE  OF  THE  SEA 

THE  OLD  MAN  OF  SAND  KEY 

HE  was  an  old  man  when  he  first  made  his 
appearance  on  the  reef  at  the  Sand  Key 
Light.  This  was  years  ago,  but  one 
could  tell  it  even  then  by  the  way  he  drew  in  his 
chin,  or  rather  pouch,  in  a  dignified  manner  as 
he  soared  in  short  circles  over  the  outlying  coral 
ledges  which  shone  vari-colored  in  the  sunshine 
beneath  the  blue  waters  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  He 
had  fished  alone  for  many  seasons  without  join 
ing  the  smaller  and  more  social  birds,  and  the 
keepers  had  grown  to  know  him.  He  was  a 
dignified  and  silent  bird,  and  his  stately  flight 
and  ponderous  waddle  over  the  dry  reef  had 
made  it  quite  evident  that  he  was  a  bird  with  a 
past.  Sandy  Shackford,  the  head  keeper,  knew 
him  well  and  relied  implicitly  upon  his  judgment 

[11] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

as  to  the  location  of  certain  denizens  of  the  warm 
Stream.  He  had  come  back  again  after  a  month's 
absence,  and  was  circling  majestically  over  the 
coral  banks  not  a  hundred  fathoms  from  the 
light. 

The  day  was  beautiful  and  the  sunshine  was 
hot.  The  warm  current  of  the  Gulf  flowed 
silently  now  with  the  gentle  southwest  wind,  and 
the  white  sails  of  the  spongers  from  Havana 
and  Key  West  began  to  dot  the  horizon.  Here 
and  there  a  large  barracouta  or  albicore  would 
dart  like  a  streak  of  shimmering  silver  through 
the  liquid,  and  the  old  man  would  cast  his  glance 
in  the  direction  of  the  vanishing  point  with  a 
ready  pinion  to  sweep  headlong  at  the  mullet  or 
sailor's-choice  which  were  being  pursued. 

His  gray  head  was  streaked  with  penciled 
feathers  which  grew  longer  as  they  reached  his 
neck,  and  his  breast  was  colored  a  dull,  mottled 
lead.  His  back  and  wings  gave  a  general  im 
pression  of  gray  and  black,  the  long  pinions  of 
the  latter  being  furnished  with  stiff  quills  which 
[12] 


OLD  MAN  OF  SAND  KEY 
tapered  with  a  lighter  shade  to  the  tips.  His 
beak  and  pouch  were  of  more  than  ordinary 
proportions,  for  the  former  was  heavy  and 
hooked  at  the  end  and  the  latter  was  large  and 
elastic,  capable  of  holding  a  three-pound  mullet. 

He  soared  slowly  over  the  reef  for  some  time, 
and  the  keeper  watched  him,  sitting  upon  the 
rail  of  the  lantern  smoking  his  pipe,  while  his 
assistant  filled  the  body  of  the  huge  lamp  and 
trimmed  its  several  wicks. 

To  the  westward  a  slight  ripple  showed  upon 
the  surface  of  the  quiet  sea.  The  pelican  sighted 
it  and  stood  away  toward  it,  for  it  looked  like  a 
mackerel  that  had  come  to  the  surface  to  take  in 
the  sunshine  and  general  beauty  of  the  day.  In 
a  moment  the  old  man  had  swung  over  the  spot 
at  a  height  of  about  a  hundred  feet;  then  sud 
denly  folding  his  wings,  he  straightened  out  his 
body,  opened  his  beak,  and  shot  straight  down 
wards  upon  the  doomed  fish.  It  was  literally  a 
bolt  from  heaven  from  out  of  a  clear  sky.  The 
lower  beak  expanded  as  it  hit  the  water  and 
[13] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

opened  the  pouch  into  a  dipper  which  scooped 
up  the  mackerel,  while  the  weight  of  the  heavy 
body  falling  from  the  great  height  carried 
everything  below  the  surface  with  a  resounding 
splash  that  could  be  heard  distinctly  upon  the 
light.  Then  up  he  came  from  the  dive  with  the 
fish  struggling  frantically  in  his  tough  leathern 
sack.  He  rested  a  moment  to  get  his  breath  and 
then  stretched  forth  his  pinions  again  and  rose 
in  a  great  circle  into  the  clear  blue  air. 

"  The  old  man's  fishin'  mackerel  this 
mornin',"  said  Sandy,  "  an'  I  reckon  I'll  get  the 
dory  an'  try  a  squid  over  along  the  edge  o'  the 
Stream  as  soon  as  the  breeze  makes." 

"  Well,  take  care  you  don't  lose  nothin',"  said 
Bill  with  a  grin. 

"  Whatcher  mean  ?  "  snarled  the  older  keeper. 

"  Nothin',"  answered  the  assistant. 

"  Then  don't  say  it,"  said  Sandy,  and  he 
walked  down  the  steps  of  the  spider-like  struc 
ture,  muttering  ominously,  until  he  reached  the 
reef  a  hundred  feet  below,  where,  hauled  high  and 
[14] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

dry,  lay  his  boat.  Sandy  was  an  old  man,  and 
had  depended  upon  false  teeth  for  some  years. 
The  last  time  he  had  gone  fishing  he  had  lost 
them  from  his  boat,  and  as  he  could  not  leave  the 
light  he  had  nearly  starved  to  death.  In  des 
peration  at  last  he  had  set  the  ensign  union  down 
and  signaled  for  assistance,  the  second  keeper 
Bill  being  ashore  on  leave,  and  after  the  U.  S.  S. 
Ohio  had  come  all  the  way  from  Key  West  to 
find  out  the  cause  of  the  trouble  he  had  been 
forced  to  explain  to  the  officer  his  humiliating 
disaster.  As  the  danger  of  landing  in  the  surf 
had  been  great  and  the  services  of  the  man-of- 
war  had  been  required  for  a  whole  day,  he  had 
been  forced  to  listen  to  a  lecture  upon  the  ab 
surdity  of  his  behavior  that  did  little  to  encour 
age  him,  and  it  was  only  his  emaciated  appear 
ance  and  unfeigned  weakness  from  loss  of  food 
that  saved  him  his  position  as  keeper. 

He  shoved  his  small  boat  off  and  sprang  into 
her.     Then  he  stepped  the  mast,  and  hauling  aft 
the  sheet  swung  her  head  around  and  stood  off 
[15] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

the  reef,  riding  easily  over  the  low  swell.  High 
above  him  was  the  lantern,  and  he  looked  up  to 
see  Bill  gazing  down  at  him  and  pointing  toward 
the  southward,  where  a  ripple  showed  the  breach 
ing  fish.  His  lines  were  in  the  after  locker,  and 
he  soon  had  them  out,  one  of  them  with  a  wooden 
squid  trolling  over  the  stern  as  the  little  cr  if  t 
gathered  headway. 

The  memory  of  his  former  disaster  now  came 
upon  him,  and  he  took  out  his  teeth,  which  were 
new,  and  examined  the  plates  upon  which  they 
were  fastened.  A  small  hole  in  either  side 
showed,  and  through  these  he  rove  a  piece  of 
line.  Then  he  placed  the  teeth  back  in  his  mouth 
and  fastened  the  ends  of  the  line  back  of  his 
ear. 

"  Let  'em  drop  an'  be  danged  to  it,  they'll  git 
back  mighty  quick  this  time,"  he  muttered.  "  I 
wonder  where  that  old  pelican  left  the  school  of 
fish?  " 

The  old  bird  had  satisfied  his  present  needs 
and  had  flown  away  to  a  distant  part  of  the  out- 
[16] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

lying  bank,  where  he  was  now  proceeding  to  en 
joy  his  catch  at  leisure.  Far  away  to  the  north 
ward,  where  Key  West  showed  above  the  horizon, 
a  long  line  of  black  specks  were  rapidly  ap 
proaching  through  the  air.  They  were  the 
regular  fishermen  of  the  reef,  and  they  were 
bound  out  to  sea  this  morning  for  their  daily 
meal.  On  they  came  in  single  file  like  a  line  of 
soldiers,  their  distance  apart  remaining  regular 
and  the  motions  of  their  leader  followed  with 
military  precision.  Every  time  he  would  strike 
the  air  several  sharp  strokes  with  his  wings,  the 
motion  would  be  instantly  taken  up  by  the 
long  line  of  followers  flapping  their  own  in 
unison. 

The  "  old  man  "  heeded  them  very  little  in 
deed  as  he  quietly  ate  his  fish,  and  they  knew 
enough  not  to  bother  him.  They  sailed  ma 
jestically  past  and  swung  in  huge  circles  over 
the  blue  Gulf  to  locate  the  passing  school. 

The  old  man  mused  as  he  ate,  and  wondered  at 
their  stupidity.  Even  the  light-keeper  knew  as 
[17] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

much  as  they.  There  was  the  breaching  school 
a  mile  away  to  windward,  and  the  stupid  birds 
were  still  watching  him. 

He  saw  his  wives  go  past  in  line.  There  was 
old  Top-knot,  a  wise  and  ugly  companion  of 
former  days,  her  penciled  feathers  on  her  neck 
rubbed  the  wrong  way.  Behind  her  came  a 
young  son,  an  ingrate,  who  even  now  would  try 
to  steal  the  fish  from  him  did  he  but  leave  it  for 
a  moment  to  dive  for  another.  He  glanced  at 
him  and  ate  steadily  on.  He  would  finish  his 
fish  first  and  look  out  for  his  ungrateful  son 
afterwards. 

Further  behind  came  his  youngest  companion, 
one  who  had  hatched  forth  twelve  stout  birds 
during  the  past  few  years  and  who  was  still 
supple  and  vigorous,  her  smooth  feathers  still 
showing  a  gloss  very  pretty  to  look  at.  But  she 
gave  him  no  notice,  and  he  ate  in  silence  until 
they  all  passed  far  beyond  and  sighted  at  last 
the  breaching  mackerel. 

When  he  had  finished  he  sat  stately  and  digni- 
[18] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

fied  upon  the  sand  of  the  reef,  all  alone.  Far 
away  to  the  southward,  where  the  high  moun 
tains  of  the  Cuban  shore  rose  above  the  line  of 
water  when  he  soared  aloft,  a  thin  smoke  rose 
from  some  passing  steamer.  To  the  northward 
the  spars  of  the  shipping  at  Key  West  stuck 
above  the  calm  sea.  All  about  was  peaceful, 
bright,  and  beautiful  daylight,  and  the  ugly 
spider-like  tower  of  the  Sand  Key  Light  stood 
like  a  huge  sentinel  as  though  to  guard  the 
scene. 

The  day  was  so  quiet  that  the  sullen  splashes 
of  the  fisher  birds  sounded  over  the  smooth  sur 
face  of  the  sea,  and  the  breeze  scarcely  rippled 
the  blue  water.  The  deep  Gulf  rolled  and  heaved 
in  the  sunshine,  and  the  drone  of  the  small  break 
ers  that  fell  upon  the  reef  sounded  low  and  had  a 
sleepy  effect  upon  the  old  fellow  who  had  finished 
his  fish. 

He  sat  with  his  pouch  drawn  in  and  his  long, 
heavy  beak  resting  upon  his  neck,  which  he  bent 
well  into  the  shape  of  a  letter  S.  Now  and  then 
[19] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

he  would  close  an  eye  as  the  glare  from  the  white 
coral  in  the  sunshine  became  too  bright.  The 
man  in  the  boat  was  trolling  back  and  forth 
through  the  school  of  fish  with  hardly  enough 
way  on  his  craft  to  make  them  strike,  but  every 
now  and  then  he  saw  him  haul  aboard  a  shim 
mering  object  that  struggled  and  fought  for 
freedom.  Above,  and  at  a  little  distance,  soared 
the  pelicans.  Every  now  and  then  one  would 
suddenly  fold  its  wings  and  make  a  straight 
dive  from  the  height  of  a  hundred  feet  or  more, 
striking  the  sea  with  a  splash  that  sent  up  a 
little  jet  of  foam. 

The  sun  rose  higher  and  the  scorching  reef 
glared  in  the  fierce  light.  The  old  man  shifted 
his  feet  on  the  burning  sand  and  looked  about 
him  for  a  spot  where  he  might  bring  another  fish 
and  lie  quiet  for  the  afternoon.  He  turned  his 
head  toward  the  westward,  where  Mangrove  Key 
rose  like  a  dark  green  bush  a  few  feet  above  the 
water  of  the  reef.  Two  small  specks  were  in  the 
blue  void  above  it,  and  his  eyes  instantly  detected 
[20] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

them  and  remained  staring  at  them  with  unwink 
ing  gaze. 

The  specks  grew  larger  rapidly,  but  they  were 
a  long  way  off  yet,  and  he  might  be  mistaken  as 
to  what  they  were.  He  had  seen  them  rise  above 
the  blue  line  before,  and  if  they  were  what  he 
took  them  to  be  there  would  be  trouble  on  the 
reef  before  long.  Yes,  he  was  not  mistaken. 
They  rose  steadily,  coming  on  a  straight  line  for 
him,  and  now  they  were  only  a  mile  distant. 
Then  he  noticed  one  of  the  objects  swerve 
slightly  to  the  eastward  and  he  saw  they  were, 
indeed,  a  pair  of  the  great  bald  eagles  from  the 
Everglades  of  Florida. 

He  was  an  old  man,  and  he  gazed  steadily  at 
them  without  much  concern,  although  he  knew 
they  meant  death  to  all  who  opposed  their  path. 
They  were  pirates.  They  were  the  cruelest  of 
killers  and  as  implacable  and  certain  in  their 
purpose  as  the  Grim  Destroyer  himself.  The 
pelicans  fishing  for  their  living  over  the  reef 
were  good  and  easy  prey.  A  sudden  dash  among 
[21] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

them,  with  beak  and  talons  cutting  and  slashing 
right  and  left,  and  there  would  be  some  full 
pouches  of  fish  to  empty.  It  was  much  better  to 
let  the  stupid  birds  fill  up  first  and  then  sweep 
among  them.  Then,  after  despoiling  them  of 
their  hard-gotten  catch,  they  would  carry  as 
much  of  the  plunder  as  they  cared  for  to  some 
sheltering  key  to  devour  at  leisure. 

The  white  head  of  the  leading  pirate  shone  in 
the  sunshine  and  his  fierce  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
the  fishermen.  The  old  man  was  apparently 
unnoticed,  although  there  was  little  within  the 
sweep  of  that  savage  gaze  that  was  left  un 
marked.  Those  eyes  could  see  the  slightest  ob 
ject  on  land  or  sea  far  beyond  the  reach  of  or 
dinary  vision.  They  had  even  this  morning, 
probably,  been  watching  the  fishermen  from 
from  some  distant  key  miles  away  to  the  north 
ward. 

The  old  man  was  a  huge,  tough  old  fellow, 
and  he  dreaded  nothing.  He  gazed  at  the  fisher 
men  and  a  feeling  of  disdain  for  their  weakness 
[22] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

came  upon  him.  He  thought  of  his  old  scolding 
mate,  Top-knot.  What  a  scared  old  bird  she 
would  be  in  a  moment  with  that  great  eagle 
sailing  straight  as  a  bullet  for  her,  his  beak 
agape,  and  his  hoarse  scream  sounding  in  her 
wake.  How  she  would  make  for  the  open  sea, 
only  to  be  caught  in  a  few  moments  and  torn 
until  she  disgorged  her  fish.  His  eldest  son 
would  make  a  show  of  fight,  perhaps,  and  in  a 
very  few  minutes  would  be  a  badly  used  up  peli 
can.  As  for  the  rest,  how  they  would  wildly  and 
silently  strike  for  the  open  ocean,  going  in  single 
file  as  was  their  custom,  only  to  be  overtaken  one 
by  one,  until  they  were  all  ripped  and  torn  by 
the  fierce  fighters,  who  would  follow  leisurely 
along  behind,  striking  and  clutching,  screaming 
and  calling  to  increase  their  fright  and  dismay. 
He  was  almost  amused  at  the  prospect,  for  the 
pirate  birds  seemed  to  know  him  instinctively  for 
a  barren  prize  and  swept  with  the  speed  of  the 
wind  past  him  and  over  the  reef  to  the  blue 
waters  of  the  Gulf  beyond,  where  the  fishermen 
[23] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

were  still  unaware  of  their  approach.  He  would 
watch  and  see  the  skirmish,  for  no  harm  could 
come  to  him  even  though  all  the  rest  were  killed 
and  wounded.  He  swung  himself  around  and 
gazed  seaward  again,  and  suddenly  the  thought 
of  his  uselessness  came  upon  him. 

Why  should  he  sit  there  and  see  this  thing 
done — he,  an  old  man?  He  had  led  the  flock 
for  many  years.  Should  he,  the  father  of  many 
and  the  companion  of  all  in  former  days,  see 
them  cut  up  by  two  enemies?  What  if  they  no 
longer  cared  for  him?  What  if  the  younger 
birds  were  ungrateful  and  would  steal  his  fish? 
Was  he  not  the  old  leader,  the  one  they  all  had 
looked  to  in  the  years  gone  by?  Did  not  even 
the  men  in  the  tower  treat  his  knowledge  with 
respect?  And  here  a  couple  of  fierce  marauders 
from  the  forests  of  the  land  had  passed  him  to 
wreak  their  will  upon  the  timid  birds  whose  leader 
had  grown  old.  Memories  of  former  days  came 
to  him,  and  something  made  him  raise  his  head 
very  straight  and  draw  his  pouch  close  in. 
[24] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

He  sat  gazing  for  a  few  moments  longer. 
The  eagles  now  had  closed  up  half  the  distance, 
for  they  were  going  with  a  rush.  A  pelican  saw 
them  and  headed  straight  out  to  sea,  striking 
the  air  wildly  with  outstretched  pinions.  Then 
in  they  dashed  with  hoarse  cries  that  caused  the 
keeper  in  the  boat  to  luff  into  the  wind  to  witness 
the  struggle. 

The  old  man  launched  his  weight  into  the  air, 
and  with  a  few  sudden  strokes  rose  to  the  height 
of  a  couple  of  fathoms  above  the  sea,  bearing 
down  toward  the  screaming  birds  with  the  rapid 
ity  of  an  express  train. 

Above  Sandy  Shackford  a  very  mixed  affair 
was  taking  place.  The  two  eagles  had  dashed 
into  the  pelicans  without  warning  and  were  with 
in  striking  distance  before  many  of  them  could 
even  turn  to  flee.  Old  Top-knot  had  just  caught 
a  fine  fish  and  was  in  the  act  of  rising  with  it 
when  the  leading  eagle  swooped  down  upon  her 
with  a  shrill  scream.  She  was  an  old  and  nervous 
bird  and  a  touch  from  any  other  creature  she 
[25] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

dreaded  at  all  times.  Now,  right  behind  her 
came  a  giant  shape,  with  glaring  eyes  and 
gaping  beak,  a  very  death's-head,  white  and 
grisly,  while  beneath  were  a  pair  of  powerful 
feet,  armed  with  sharp  talons,  ready  to  seize  her 
in  a  deadly  grip.  She  gave  a  desperate  leap  to 
clear  the  sea  and  stretch  her  wings,  but  the  sight 
was  too  much  for  her,  and  she  sank  back  upon 
the  surface.  The  great  eagle  was  too  terrifying 
for  her  old  nerves,  and  she  sat  helpless. 

In  an  instant  the  eagle  was  upon  her.  He 
seized  her  fiercely  in  his  talons  and  struck  her 
savagely  in  the  back,  and  the  poor  old  bird  in 
stantly  disgorged  her  newly  caught  fish.  Her 
savage  assailant  hesitated  a  moment  before 
striking  her  down  for  good  and  all,  while  he 
watched  the  fish  swim  away  into  the  depths  be 
low.  Then  he  turned  to  finish  her. 

At  that  instant  there  was  a  tremendous  rush 

through  the  air,  and  a  huge  body  struck  him 

full  in  the  breast,   knocking   him   floundering 

upon  the  sea.     The  old  man  had  come  at  him 

[26] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

as  straight  as  a  bullet  from  a  gun,  and,  with  the 
full  force  of  his  fifteen  pounds  sailing  through 
the  air,  had  struck  him  with  his  tough  old  body, 
that  had  been  hardened  by  many  a  high  dive 
from  above. 

The  eagle  was  taken  completely  aback,  and 
struggled  quickly  into  the  air  to  get  out  of  that 
vicinity,  while  the  old  man,  carried  along  by  the 
impetus  of  his  rush,  soared  around  in  a  great 
circle  and  came  slowly  back  to  renew  the  attack. 
In  a  moment  the  eagle  had  recovered,  and,  with 
true  game  spirit,  swung  about  to  meet  this  new 
defender  of  the  fishermen.  They  met  in  mid-air, 
about  two  fathoms  above  the  sea,  and  Sandy 
Shackford  cheered  wildly  for  his  old  acquaint 
ance  as  he  landed  a  heavy  blow  with  his  long, 
hooked  bill. 

"  Go  it,  old  man !  "  he  cried.  "  Give  it  to 
him.  Oh,  if  I  had  my  gun,  wouldn't  I  soak 
him  for  ye !  " 

The  other  birds  had  fled  seaward,  and  were 
now  almost  out  of  sight,  being  pursued  by  the 
[27] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

second  eagle.  One  limp  form  floated  on  the  sea 
to  mark  the  course  of  the  marauder.  Old  Top 
knot  had  recovered  from  the  shock,  and  was  now 
making  a  line  for  Cuba.  The  old  man  was  the 
only  one  left,  and  he  was  detaining  the  great 
bald  eagle  for  his  last  fight,  the  fight  of  his 
life. 

Around  and  around  they  soared.  The  eagle 
was  wary  and  did  not  wish  to  rush  matters  with 
the  determined  old  man,  who,  with  beak  drawn 
back,  sailed  about  ready  for  a  stroke.  Then, 
disdaining  the  clumsy  old  fellow,  the  bald  eagle 
made  a  sudden  rush  as  though  he  would  end  the 
matter  right  there.  The  old  man  met  him,  and 
there  was  a  short  scrimmage  in  the  air  which 
resulted  in  both  dropping  to  the  sea.  Here  the 
old  man  had  the  advantage.  The  eagle  could 
not  swim,  his  powerful  talons  not  being  made 
for  propelling  him  over  the  water.  The  old  man 
managed  to  hold  his  own,  although  he  received 
a  savage  cut  from  the  other's  strong  beak.  This 
round  was  a  draw.  During  this  time  the  second 
[28] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

eagle  had  seen  that  his  companion  was  not  fol 
lowing  the  startled  game,  and  he  returned  just 
in  time  to  see  him  disengage  from  a  whirlwind 
of  wings  and  beaks  and  wait  a  moment  to  decide 
just  how  he  would  finish  off  the  old  fellow  who 
had  the  hardihood  to  dispute  his  way.  Then 
he  joined  the  fight,  and  together  they  swooped 
down  upon  the  old  man  for  the  finish. 

He  met  them  with  his  head  well  up  and  wings 
outstretched,  and  gave  them  so  much  to  do  that 
they  were  entirely  taken  up  with  the  affair  and 
failed  to  notice  Sandy  Shackford,who  was  creep 
ing  up,  paddling  with  all  his  strength  with  an 
oar-hlade. 

The  encounter  could  not  last  long.  The  old 
fellow  was  rapidly  succumbing  to  the  attacks 
of  his  powerful  antagonists,  and  although  he 
still  kept  the  mix-up  in  a  whirl  of  foam  with  his 
desperate  struggles,  he  could  not  hope  to  last 
against  two  such  pirates  as  were  now  pitted 
against  him.  One  of  them  struck  him  fiercely 
and  tore  his  throat  open,  ripping  his  pouch  from 
[29] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

end  to  end.  He  was  weakening  fast  and  knew 
the  struggle  must  end  in  another  rush.  Both 
eagles  came  at  him  at  once,  uttering  hoarse  cries, 
and  drawing  back  his  head  he  made  one  last, 
desperate  stroke  with  his  hooked  beak.  Then 
something  seemed  to  crash  down  upon  his  foes 
from  above.  An  oar-blade  whirled  in  the  sun 
shine  and  struck  the  leading  eagle  upon  the  head, 
knocking  him  lifeless  upon  the  sea.  Then  the 
other  rose  quickly  and  started  off  to  the  north 
ward  as  the  form  of  the  keeper  towered  above 
in  the  bow  of  the  approaching  boat. 

Sandy  Shackford  picked  the  great  white- 
headed  bird  from  the  water  and  dropped  him 
into  the  boat  and  the  old  man  looked  on  wonder 
ing.  He  had  known  the  keeper  for  a  long  time, 
but  had  never  been  at  close  quarters. 

"  Poor  old  man,"  said  Sandy.  "  Ye  look 
mighty  badly  used  up."  And  then  he  made  a 
motion  toward  him. 

But  the  old  pelican  wanted  no  sympathy.  His 
was  the  soul  of  the  leader,  and  he  scorned  help. 
[30] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

Stretching  forth  his  wings  with  a  mighty  effort, 
he  arose  from  the  sea.  The  reef  lay  but  a  short 
distance  away,  and  he  would  get  ashore  to  rest. 
The  pain  in  his  throat  was  choking  him,  but  he 
would  sit  quiet  a  while  and  get  well.  He  would 
not  go  far,  but  he  would  be  alone.  The  whole  sea 
shimmered  dizzily  in  the  sunshine,  but  a  little 
rest  and  the  old  bones  would  be  right  again.  He 
would  be  quiet  and  alone. 

"  Poor  old  man,"  said  Sandy,  as  he  watched 
him  sail  away.  "  He's  a  dead  pelican,  but  he 
made  a  game  fight." 

Then  he  hauled  in  his  lines,  and,  squaring 
away  before  the  wind,  ran  down  to  the  light  with 
the  eagle  and  a  dozen  fine  fish  in  the  bottom  of 
his  dory. 

The  next  day  the  old  man  was  not  fishing  on 
the  reef.  The  other  birds  came  back — all  ex 
cept  one.  But  the  old  man  failed  to  show  up 
during  the  whole  day. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  came  and  went, 
and  Sandy,  who  looked  carefully  every  morning 
[31] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

for  the  old  fellow,  began  to  give  up  all  hope  of 
seeing  him  again.  Then,  in  the  late  afternoon 
when  the  other  birds  were  away,  the  old  man 
came  sailing  slowly  over  the  water  and  landed 
stiffly  upon  the  coral  of  a  point  just  awash  at 
the  end  of  the  key. 

As  the  sun  was  setting,  the  old  man  swung 
himself  slowly  around  to  face  it.  He  drew  his 
head  well  back  and  held  himself  dignified  and 
stately  as  he  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  surf. 
There  he  stopped,  and  as  the  flaming  orb  sank 
beneath  the  western  sea,  the  old  man  still  stood 
watching  it  as  it  disappeared. 

Sandy  Shackford  lit  the  lantern,  and  the  sud 
den  tropic  night  fell  upon  the  quiet  ocean. 

In  the  morning  the  keeper  looked  out,  and  the 
old  man  was  sitting  silent  and  stationary  as  be 
fore.  When  the  day  wore  on  and  he  did  not 
start  out  fishing  Sandy  took  the  dory  and  rowed 
to  the  jutting  reef.  He  walked  slowly  toward 
the  old  man,  not  wishing  to  disturb  him,  but  to 
help  him  if  he  could.  He  drew  near,  and  the  old 
[32] 


OLD    MAN    OF    SAND    KEY 

bird  made  no  motion.  He  reached  slowly  down, 
and  the  head  he  touched  was  cold. 

Sitting  there,  with  the  setting  sun  shining 
over  the  southern  sea,  the  old  man  had  died.  He 
was  now  cold  and  stiff,  but  even  in  death  he  sat 
straight  and  dignified.  He  had  died  as  a  leader 
should. 

"  Poor  old  man,"  said  Sandy.  "  His  pouch 
was  cut  open  an'  he  jest  naterally  starved  to 
death — couldn't  hold  no  fish,  an'  as  fast  as  he'd 
catch  'em  they'd  get  away.  It  was  a  mean  way 
to  kill  a  fine  old  bird.  Ye  have  my  sympathy, 
old  man. '  I  came  nigh  goin'  the  same  way  once 
myself." 

And  then,  as  if  not  to  disturb  him,  the  keeper 
walked  on  his  toes  to  his  boat  and  shoved  off. 


[33] 


THE  OUTCAST 

THE  day  was  bright  and  the  sunshine 
glistened  upon  the  smooth  water  of 
Cumberland  Sound.  The  sand  beach 
glared  in  the  fierce  rays  and  the  heat  was 
stifling.  What  little  breeze  there  was  merely 
ruffled  the  surface  of  the  water,  streaking  it  out 
into  fantastic  shapes  upon  the  oily  swell  which 
heaved  slowly  in  from  the  sea.  Far  away  the 
lighthouse  stood  out  white  and  glinting,  the  trees 
about  the  tall  tower  looking  inviting  with  their 
shade.  The  swell  snored  low  and  sullenly  upon 
the  bar,  where  it  broke  into  a  line  of  whiteness, 
and  the  buoys  rode  the  tide  silently,  making 
hardly  a  ripple  as  it  rushed  past. 

Riley,  the  keeper  of  the  light,  was  fishing. 
His  canoe  was  anchored  close  to  the  shore  in  three 
fathoms  of  water,  and  he  was  pulling  up  whiting 
[37] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

in  spite  of  the  ebb,  which  now  went  so  fast  that 
it  was  with  difficulty  he  kept  his  line  upon  the 
bottom.  When  he  landed  his  fiftieth  fish  they 
suddenly  stopped  biting.  He  changed  his  bait, 
but  to  no  purpose.  Then  he  pulled  up  his  line 
and  spat  upon  his  hook  for  luck. 

Even  this  remedy  for  wooing  the  goddess  of 
fortune  failed  him,  and  he  mopped  his  face  and 
wondered.  Then  he  looked  over  the  side. 

For  some  minutes  he  could  see  nothing  but  the 
glint  of  the  current  hurrying  past.  The  sun 
shine  dazzled  him.  Then  he  shaded  his  eyes  and 
tried  to  pierce  the  depths  beneath  the  boat. 

The  water  was  as  crystal,  and  gradually  the 
outlines  of  the  soft  bottom  began  to  take  form. 
He  could  follow  the  anchor  rope  clear  down 
until  a  cross  showed  where  the  hook  took  the 
ground. 

Suddenly  he  gave  a  start.  In  spite  of  the 
heat  he  had  a  chill  run  up  his  spine.  Then  he 
gazed  fixedly  down,  straight  down  beneath  the 
small  boat's  bottom. 

[38] 


THE    OUTCAST 

A  huge  pair  of  eyes  were  looking  up  at  him 
with  a  fixed  stare.  At  first  they  seemed  to  be  in 
the  mud  of  the  bottom,  two  unwinking  glassy 
eyes  about  a  foot  apart,  with  slightly  raised 
sockets.  They  were  almost  perfectly  round, 
and  although  he  knew  they  must  belong  to  a 
creature  lying  either  to  or  against  the  current, 
he  could  not  tell  which  side  the  body  must  lie. 
Gradually  a  movement  forward  of  the  orbs  at 
tracted  his  attention,  and  he  made  out  an  irregu 
lar  outline  surrounding  a  section  of  undulating 
mud.  This  showed  the  expanse  of  the  creature's 
body,  lying  flat  as  it  was,  and  covering  an  area 
of  several  yards.  It  showed  the  proportions  of 
the  sea-devil,  the  huge  ray  whose  shark-like  pro 
pensities  made  it  the  most  dreaded  of  the  inhab 
itants  of  the  Sound.  There  he  lay  looking  se 
renely  up  at  the  bottom  of  the  boat  with  his 
glassy  eyes  fixed  in  that  grisly  stare,  and  it  was 
little  wonder  he  was  called  the  devil-fish. 

Riley  spat  overboard  in  disgust,  and  drew  in 
his  line.  There  was  no  use  trying  to  fish  with  that 
[39] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

horrible  thing  lying  beneath.  He  got  out  the 
oars  and  then  took  hold  of  the  anchor  line  and 
began  to  haul  it  in,  determined  to  seek  a  fishing 
drop  elsewhere  or  go  home.  As  he  hauled  the 
line,  the  great  creature  below  noticed  the  boat 
move  ahead.  He  watched  it  for  some  seconds, 
and  then  slid  along  the  bottom,  where  the  hook 
was  buried  in  the  mud. 

It  was  easy  to  move  his  huge  bulk.  The  side 
flukes  had  but  to  be  ruffled  a  little,  and  the  great 
form  would  move  along  like  a  shadow.  He  could 
see  the  man  in  the  boat  when  he  bent  over  the 
side,  and  he  wondered  several  times  whether  he 
should  take  the  risk  of  a  jump  aboard.  He  was 
a  scavenger,  and  not  hard  to  please  in  the  matter 
of  diet.  Anything  that  was  alive  was  game  to 
his  maw.  He  had  watched  for  more  than  an 
hour  before  the  light-keeper  had  noticed  it,  and 
now  the  boat  was  drawing  away.  His  brain  was 
very  small,  and  he  could  not  overcome  a  peculiar 
feeling  that  danger  was  always  near  the  little 
creature  above.  He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
[40] 


THE    OUTCAST 

boat's  bottom,  and  slid  along  under  her  until  his 
head  brought  up  against  the  anchor  line,  now 
taut  as  Riley  hove  it  short  to  break  out  the  hook. 
This  was  provoking,  and  he  opened  a  wicked 
mouth  armed  with  rows  of  shark-like  teeth. 
Then  the  anchor  broke  clear  and  was  started  up 
ward,  and  the  boat  began  to  drift  away  in  the 
current. 

The  spirit  of  badness  took  possession  of  him. 
He  was  annoyed.  The  boat  would  soon  go  away 
if  the  anchor  was  withdrawn,  so  he  made  a  grab 
for  it  and  seized  the  hook,  or  fluke,  in  his  mouth, 
and  started  out  to  sea.  Rilcy  felt  the  sudden 
tug  from  below.  He  almost  guessed  what  it  was, 
and  quick  as  lightning  took  a  turn  with  the  line 
about  the  forward  scat.  Then,  as  the  boat's 
headway  increased  rapidly,  he  took  the  bight 
of  the  line  aft  and  seated  himself  so  as  to  keep 
her  head  up  and  not  bury  in  the  rush.  His  knife 
was  at  hand  ready  for  a  sudden  slash  at  the  line 
in  case  of  emergency. 

"  If  he'll  let  go  abreast  o'  the  p'int,  all  right," 
[41] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

said  Riley.  "  I  seen  lots  harder  ways  o'  getting 
about  than  this." 

The  tide  was  rushing  out  with  great  rapidity, 
and  going  along  with  it  the  boat  fairly  flew. 
Riley  watched  the  shore  slip  past,  and  looked 
anxiously  toward  the  lighthouse  for  the  head 
keeper  to  see  him.  It  would  give  the  old  man  a 
turn,  he  thought,  to  see  a  boat  flying  through 
the  water  with  the  occupant  sitting  calmly  aft 
taking  it  easy.  It  made  him  laugh  outright  to 
imagine  the  head  keeper's  look  of  astonishment. 
Then  he  saw  the  figure  of  the  old  man  standing 
upon  the  platform  of  the  tower  gazing  out  to 
sea.  He  roared  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  hop 
ing  to  attract  attention,  but  the  distance  was 
too  great. 

Meanwhile  the  sea-devil  was  sliding  along  the 
bottom,  heading  for  the  line  of  white  where  the 
surf  fell  over  the  bank  of  the  outer  bar.  The 
hook,  or  fluke,  of  the  anchor  was  held  securely 
in  his  powerful  jaws,  and  the  force  necessary  to 
tow  the  following  craft  was  felt  very  little.  The 
[42] 


THE    OUTCAST 

great  side  fins,  or  flukes,  merely  moved  with  a 
motion  which  caused  no  exertion  to  such  a  frame, 
and  the  long  tail,  armed  with  its  deadly  spear 
of  poisoned  barbs,  slewed  slightly  from  right 
to  left,  steering  the  creature  with  accuracy. 
And  while  he  went  his  mind  was  working,  try 
ing  to  think  how  he  could  get  the  man  from 
the  boat  after  he  had  taken  him  out  to  sea 
beyond  any  help  from  the  shore.  A  sea-devil 
he  was,  and  rightly  named.  This  he  very  well 
knew,  and  the  thought  made  him  fearless.  He 
had  rushed  many  schools  of  mullet  and  other 
small  fish,  who  fled  in  frantic  terror  at  his  ap 
proach.  He  had  slid  into  a  school  of  large  por 
poises,  the  fishermen  who  seldom  gave  way  for 
anything,  and  he  sent  them  plunging  in  fear  for 
the  deep  water.  Once  he  had,  in  sheer  devilry, 
leaped  upon  a  huge  logger-head  turtle  weighing 
half  a  ton,  just  to  see  if  he  could  take  a  nip  of 
his  neck  before  the  frightened  fellow  could  draw 
in  his  head  behind  the  safe  shelter  of  his  shell. 
He  could  stand  to  the  heaviest  shark  that  had 
[43] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

ever  entered  the  Sound,  and  had  once  driven  his 
spear  through  the  jaws  of  a  monster  who  had 
sneaked  up  behind  him  unawares  and  tried  to 
get  a  grip  upon  his  flukes.  All  had  shown  a 
wholesale  respect  for  his  powers,  and  he  had 
grown  more  and  more  malignant  as  he  grew  in 
size  and  strength.  Even  his  own  family  had  at 
last  sought  other  waters  on  account  of  his  pecu 
liarly  ferocious  temper. 

Now  he  would  try  the  new  game  in  the  craft 
above,  and  he  felt  little  doubt  as  to  the  out 
come.  A  sudden  dash  and  twist  might  demoral 
ize  the  floating  tow,  and  as  he  neared  the  black 
can  buoy  which  marked  the  channel,  he  gave  a 
tremendous  rush  ahead,  then  a  sudden  sheer  to 
the  right,  and  with  a  quick  slew  he  was  heading 
back  again  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Riley  felt  the  sudden  jerk  ahead.  He  was  as 
far  as  he  wished  to  go  down  the  shore,  but  had 
hesitated  to  cut  the  line  in  the  hope  that  the 
devil  would  let  go.  Lines  were  not  plentiful,  and 
to  lose  this  one  meant  an  end  to  fishing  for  sev- 
[  44  ] 


THE  GREAT  SHAPE  SAILED  FOR  THE  TOP  OF  THE  BUOY. 


THE    OUTCAST 

eral  days.  The  canoe  shot  ahead  with  prodi 
gious  speed.  Riley  seized  the  knife  and  was 
about  to  cut  loose,  when  there  was  a  sudden  sheer 
to  starboard,  and  before  he  could  do  anything 
the  canoe  was  jerked  quickly  over  upon  its  side. 
He  leaped  to  the  rail  and  tried  to  right  it,  but 
almost  instantly  it  was  whirled  about  and  cap 
sized.  The  sea-devil  now  dropped  the  anchor 
and  turned  his  attention  to  the  boat.  The 
fluke,  taking  the  ground  in  the  channel,  anchored 
the  craft  a  few  feet  distant  from  the  can  buoy, 
and  Riley  was  climbing  upon  the  upturned 
boat's  bottom  as  the  creature  came  up.  Lying 
flat  upon  the  keel,  Riley  balanced  himself  so  as 
to  keep  clear  of  the  sea,  watching  the  big  black 
can  swinging  to  and  fro  in  the  current.  If  he 
could  but  seize  the  ring  in  the  top  he  might  pull 
himself  to  a  place  of  safety. 

The  devil   came  back   slowly,   looking  about 

for  the  occupant  of  the  small  boat.     He  was  not 

in   sight,   and   the   craft  was   perfectly   empty. 

This  puzzled  him,  and  he  began  circling  around 

[45] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

to  see  if  he  had  overlooked  him  in  the  tideway. 
Then  he  saw  a  movement  upon  the  boat,  and 
made  out  the  keeper  lying  upon  the  keel.  He 
came  slowly  up  to  the  side  of  the  craft,  and  Riley 
saw  a  huge  shadow  rising  alongside  of  him, 
spreading  out  a  full  two  fathoms  across  the 
wings,  or  flukes.  The  ugly  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
him,  and  he  yelled  in  terror.  It  was  like  some 
horrid  nightmare,  only  he  knew  the  deadly  na 
ture  of  the  creature,  and  realized  what  a  fate 
was  in  store  for  him  once  the  devil  had  him 
fast. 

The  devil  was  in  no  hurry  to  rush  matters, 
however,  for  now  that  the  boat  was  again  sta 
tionary  he  would  investigate  the  subject  before 
making  an  attack.  He  was  not  hungry. 

Riley  edged  away  from  the  huge  shadow  as 
far  as  he  could,  and  called  frantically  for  help. 
The  can  buoy  swung  close  to  him,  and  he  looked 
up  to  see  if  it  were  possible  to  make  the  spring 
for  the  top.  To  miss  it  meant  certain  death. 
Then  it  swung  away  again,  and  he  closed  his  eyes 
[46] 


THE    OUTCAST 

to  shut  out  the  horrid  shape  rising  beside  the 
boat. 

The  mouth  of  the  devil  was  under  a  breadth  of 
shovel-shaped  nose,  and  it  could  not  be  brought 
to  bear  at  once.  It  would  necessitate  a  leap  to 
grab  Riley,  and  as  the  devil  was  in  no  hurry  he 
swam  slowly  along  the  sunken  gunwale  waiting 
for  a  better  opportunity  to  seize  the  victim.  He 
was  apparently  certain  of  his  game,  and  he  would 
take  his  time. 

Riley  shrieked  again  and  again  in  terror, 
clinging  with  a  frantic  clutch  to  the  capsized 
boat. 

About  this  time,  Samuels,  the  keeper,  who  was 
in  the  tower,  happened  to  turn  around  far  enough 
to  notice  the  black  speck  of  the  upturned  boat. 
He  was  expecting  Riley  to  show  up  about  this 
time  of  day,  and  the  speck  upon  the  surface  of 
the  Sound  attracted  his  attention.  In  a  few 
moments  he  made  it  out  to  be  the  boat  bottom  up. 

Instantly  he  sprang  for  his  glasses.  He  saw 
Riley  lying  upon  the  bottom.  He  rushed  to  the 
[47] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

beach  as  fast  as  he  could  and  pushed  out  in  a 
dory.  His  companion  was  in  danger  from 
drowning,  and  he  would  rescue  him  if  possible. 
He  knew  nothing  of  the  danger  that  lurked  be 
low  the  surface  of  the  sea.  The  sea-devil  was  out 
of  sight,  and  his  small  dorsal  fin  would  not 
show  any  great  distance. 

Riley  howled  and  clung  to  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  while  Samuels  strove  to  reach  him,  and 
all  the  time  the  devil  swam  slowly  fore  and  aft 
along  the  side  trying  to  decide  whether  to  make 
the  leap  or  push  the  boat  bodily  over  again. 
The  last  method  appeared  to  be  the  least  irksome, 
and  he  gave  the  boat  a  good  shove  with  his 
nose. 

Riley  felt  the  heeling  of  the  craft,  and 
clutched  frantically  at  the  now  slanting  keel. 
She  was  turning  over  again,  and  in  an  instant 
he  would  be  in  the  water.  The  thought  of  the 
ending  gave  him  a  madman's  energy.  He  saw 
the  buoy  swinging  closer  and  closer  to  him  as 
the  craft  was  pushed  along  sideways.  Then  a 
[48] 


THE    OUTCAST 

sudden  eddy  of  the  tide  swung  it  within  a  few 
feet  of  the  boat. 

The  devil,  seeing  the  boat  turning  slowly  over, 
pushed  harder.  In  an  instant  the  man  upon  the 
bottom  would  be  in  the  water  and  easy  to  seize. 
He  gave  a  sudden  shove,  throwing  the  capsized 
craft  almost  upon  its  side.  As  he  did  so  Riley 
made  a  last  desperate  effort.  He  arose  quick  as 
lightning  and  balanced  for  an  instant  on  the 
settling  canoe.  Then  he  sprang  with  all  his 
strength  for  the  ring-bolt  in  the  top  of  the  buoy. 

Whether  it  was  luck  or  the  desperate  strength 
of  despair,  he  just  managed  to  get  the  fingers 
of  his  right  hand  into  the  ring.  The  can  toppled 
over  as  though  it  would  capsize  and  land  him  in 
the  sea,  but  with  his  legs  in  the  water  almost  up 
fco  his  waist,  it  brought  up  on  its  bearings,  bal 
anced  by  the  heavy  weight  below.  Then  he 
hauled  himself  up  and  tried  to  get  his  legs 
around  the  iron. 

At  each  effort  the  can  would  twist  slowly  in 
the  sea,  and  down  he  would  come  again  into 
[49] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

the  water,   holding   on   by  the   ring   above   his 
head. 

The  sea-devil  gave  the  craft  a  tremendous 
push  which  sent  it  clear  over,  and  then  he  slipped 
under  it  to  find  the  game  on  the  side  beyond. 
The  man  was  gone,  but  he  saw  him  hanging  to 
the  buoy  close  by,  and  he  gave  a  sudden  dash  to 
seize  him.  At  that  instant  Riley  clambered  like 
a  cat  upon  the  swinging  iron,  and  by  almost 
superhuman  balancing  he  sat  up  on  the  top,  some 
four  feet  clear  of  the  water,  his  legs  swinging 
on  either  side,  making  frantic  efforts  to  keep  his 
unstable  craft  from  turning  around  in  the  cur 
rent  and  spilling  him  into  the  death-trap  which 
now  lurked  below  in  plain  view.  He  prayed  for 
a  whale  iron,  and  screamed  for  help.  Then  he 
swore  furiously  and  madly  at  the  shape  with  the 
stony  eyes  which,  as  implacable  as  death  itself,  lay 
watching  him  as  though  certain  of  the  ultimate 
outcome  of  the  affair.  Without  even  his  knife 
he  would  not  be  able  to  make  the  least  resistance. 
A  harpoon  iron  would  have  fixed  things  differ- 
[50] 


THE    OUTCAST 

ently.  Oh,  for  one  to  throw  at  the  hideous  thing 
waiting  for  him !  How  he  would  like  to  see  the 
barbs  sink  into  that  hard  hide  and  pierce  its 
vitals.  He  raved  at  it,  and  cursed  it  frantically, 
but  the  sea-devil  lay  there  silently  watching, 
knowing  well  that  it  was  but  a  question  of  a  few 
minutes  before  he  would  be  at  his  mercy. 

The  hot  afternoon  sun  beat  pitilessly  upon  the 
clinging  wretch  upon  the  can  buoy,  and  the  heat 
upon  his  bare  head  made  the  water  dance  about 
him.  But  to  lose  his  balance  was  fatal,  and  he 
clung  and  cried,  prayed  and  screamed,  cursed 
and  raved,  alternate!}',  adjusting  his  trembling 
body  to  each  movement  of  his  float. 

As  the  minutes  flew  by,  Samuels,  who  was  row 
ing  to  him  with  rapid  strokes,  heard  his  outcries, 
and  turned  to  look.  He  could  not  understand 
the  man's  wild  terror.  It  was  evident  that  there 
was  no  time  to  lose,  and  he  bent  to  the  oars 
again.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  piercing  scream. 
He  turned,  and  in  time  to  see  a  great  shape  rise 
from  the  water  like  a  gigantic  bat,  and  sail  right 
[51] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

for  the  top  of  the  can  buoy.  It  struck  it  fair, 
and  the  thud  of  the  huge  body  resounded  over  the 
sea.  Then  it  fell  slanting  off  into  the  water  with 
a  great  splash,  and  when  he  looked  at  the  top  of 
the  can  there  was  nothing  but  a  piece  of  blue 
cloth  hanging  to  the  ring-bolt.  Riley  was  gone. 
In  an  instant  Samuels  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
stood  looking  at  the  eddying  current,  paralyzed 
with  horror  at  the  sight.  The  hot  sunshine  and 
smooth  sea  were  still  all  around  him,  but  the  mon 
strous  shape  had  disappeared  and  his  com 
panion  along  with  it.  Now  he  knew  why  Riley 
had  screamed  and  cursed  so  frantically.  It  was 
not  the  fear  of  drowning  that  had  called  forth 
such  madness.  But  even  while  he  stood  there  in 
the  sunlight  a  horrible  nightmare  seemed  to  be 
taking  possession  of  him,  and  he  was  trembling 
and  helpless.  He  gave  a  hoarse  cry  and  set  his 
teeth  to  control  his  shaking  nerves.  Then  his 
brain  began  its  normal  working  again,  and  he 
seized  his  oars  and  gave  several  tremendous 
strokes  in  the  direction  of  the  buoy,  looking 
[52] 


THE    OUTCAST 

over  his  shoulder  and  feeling  his  scalp  tighten 
ing  upon  his  head.  There  was  a  cold  chill  in 
his  blood,  as  though  the  weather  were  winter  in 
stead  of  torrid  July. 

Suddenly  something  showed  on  the  surface 
just  under  the  boat's  bow.  He  shivered  in  spite 
of  himself,  but  the  thought  of  his  comrade 
nerved  him  for  the  ordeal.  He  sprang  forward, 
knife  in  hand,  to  seize  it  if  it  were  Riley's  form, 
or  face  the  monster  if  he  appeared.  A  white 
hand  came  slowly  upward.  With  a  desperate 
effort  Samuels  reached  over  and  jerked  the  form 
of  his  assistant  into  the  boat,  and  as  he  did  so 
a  huge  shadow  darkened  the  water  beneath 
him. 

The  sea-devil,  carried  along  by  the  momentum 
of  his  rush,  had  knocked  his  victim  into  the  water 
from  the  buoy  top,  but  had  swept  past  him  be 
fore  he  could  swing  about  far  enough  to  seize 
him  in  his  jaws.  This  was  all  that  saved  Riley. 

Instantly  Samuels,  who  had  a  stout  craft, 
seized  his  oars  and  pulled  for  the  lighthouse,  gaz- 
[53] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

ing  fixedly  upon  the  smooth  water  astern  of  him, 
and  shivering  with  a  nervous  shake  at  each  ripple 
in  the  wake  of  his  boat,  lest  it  were  made  by  the 
denizen  below  the  surface.  But  nothing  fol 
lowed.  The  Sound  was  as  smooth  as  glass,  and 
the  sunshine  and  silence  were  undisturbed.  The 
great  ray  had  missed  his  victim,  and  was  swim 
ming  slowly  around  the  can  buoy  looking  for 
him.  He  had  failed  to  notice  Samuels  pick  him 
up,  although  he  had  seen  his  boat  pass. 

While  Samuels  watched  astern  he  saw  the  cap 
sized  craft  near  the  buoy  move  suddenly,  as 
though  some  power  were  exerted  upon  it  from 
below.  The  sight  caused  him  to  bend  with  re 
newed  vigor  to  his  oars,  and,  with  his  heart  send 
ing  his  blood  jerking  through  his  temples  with 
a  pulse  he  seemed  almost  to  hear,  he  drove  his 
boat  for  the  beach  and  landed  safely.  As  he  did 
so  Riley  sat  up  and  looked  about  him  with  eyes 
that  were  like  those  of  a  man  in  a  dream.  His 
lips  were  swollen  to  a  livid  blue  and  he  puffed 
through  them,  making  a  ghastly  sound  as  they 
[  54  ] 


THE    OUTCAST 

quivered  with  his  breath.  Samuels  spoke  to  him, 
but  he  would  only  gaze  about  him  and  make  the 
blowing  noise  with  his  mouth.  Then  the  elder 
keeper  took  him  gently  by  the  arm  and  led  him 
painfully  up  the  sand  to  the  lighthouse  dwell 
ing.  The  next  day  the  victim  was  raving.  It 
would  take  a  long  time  for  the  poor  fellow  to  re 
gain  his  equilibrium,  and  absolute  rest  and  quiet 
were  the  only  thing  that  would  steady  the  ter 
ribly  shaken  nerves.  Samuels  took  the  man  to 
the  nearest  town,  and  then  went  back  to  tend  the 
light  alone. 

The  following  week  Samuels  spent  brooding 
over  the  horrible  affair.  The  log  of  the  keeper 
refers  to  it  several  times,  and  it  was  like  a  wild 
nightmare  to  him  during  his  watch  on  the  tower 
during  darkness.  During  the  daytime  he 
thought  of  it  continually,  and  began  to  devise 
different  methods  for  the  capture  of  the  sea-devil, 
which  he  believed  to  be  still  in  the  entrance  of  the 
Sound.  He  had  sent  word  of  the  unfortunate 
Riley's  condition  to  the  inspector,  and  was  tend- 
[55] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

ing  the  light  alone  when  the  new  assistant  came  to 
relieve  him.  When  he  arrived  he  found  Samuels 
hard  at  work  upon  a  set  of  harpoons  and  lines 
which  he  had  been  preparing  for  his  hunt,  while 
a  couple  of  large  shark-hooks  lay  in  the  small 
boat  ready  baited.  Two  small  boats  were  made 
ready,  and  the  shark-hooks  and  lines  were  placed 
in  one.  The  other  contained  five  lilly-irons  of 
the  grummet-and-toggle  pattern  and  two  hun 
dred  fathoms  of  small  line  capable  of  holding 
the  small  boat  while  being  towed  at  an}r  speed. 
With  this  outfit  they  began  to  spend  the  days 
upon  the  waters  of  the  Sound,  rowing  in  com 
pany  to  the  various  fishing  drops,  and  trying 
for  a  bite  upon  the  great  hooks. 

Not  a  sign  of  the  sea-devil  had  there  been 
since  the  day  the  keeper  had  met  him.  The 
weather  was  clear  and  fine,  and  the  sea  smooth. 
Nothing  rose  to  break  the  even  surface.  But 
Samuels  hunted  quietly  on,  never  losing  faith 
that  some  day  the  monster  would  break  water 
again  and  give  him  a  chance  for  either  a  harpoon 
[56] 


THE    OUTCAST 

or  hook.  In  his  boat  he  carried  a  long  whale 
lance  with  its  heart-shaped  head  as  sharp  as  a 
razor,  covered  in  a  wooden  scabbard  to  keep  off 
the  dampness.  It  would  penetrate  any  living 
body  a  full  fathom,  and  nothing  of  flesh  and 
blood  could  withstand  its  stroke. 

The  sixth  day  out  the  new  keeper  began  to 
give  up  hope  of  seeing  anything  like  the  game 
they  sought.  He  carried  ordinary  hand  lines, 
and  busied  himself  fishing  during  their  stays  at 
the  different  drops.  Sea  bass,  drum,  and  sheeps- 
head  were  biting  lively,  and  he  managed  to  make 
good  use  of  the  time  they  were  away  from  the 
light.  Toward  the  late  afternoon  the  fish  sud 
denly  stopped  biting.  It  was  the  beginning  of 
the  flood  tide,  and  therefore  not  in  keeping  with 
the  usual  state  of  affairs.  Something  was  the 
matter,  and  Samuels  began  to  pay  attention  to 
his  shark  lines. 

In  a  short  time  one  of  them  began  to  go  in 
little  jerks.  It  was  loose,  with  a  turn  around  a 
cleat  so  that  it  might  run  with  any  sudden  pull. 
[57] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

Then  it  began  to  go  steadily,  going  faster  and 
faster,  as  fathom  after  fathom  of  it  flaked  over 
board.  As  a  shark  is  never  jerked  for  some  mo 
ments  after  he  has  taken  bait,  on  account  of  his 
habit  of  holding  a  morsel  in  his  mouth  some 
times  for  minutes  before  swallowing  it,  the  line 
was  let  run.  After  a  shark  gets  it  well  in  hand 
he  suddenly  bolts  the  food  and  makes  off.  Then 
is  the  time  to  set  back  with  a  full  force  upon  the 
line  in  order  to  drive  the  barb  of  the  hook  into 
his  tough  throat.  The  chain  leader  of  the  hook 
will  then  be  the  only  thing  he  can  set  his  teeth 
upon,  and  he  will  be  fast  if  the  barb  once  gets 
under  the  tough  hide. 

Samuels  let  the  line  go  for  nearly  a  minute 
before  a  quickening  in  the  movement  told  him 
that  the  fellow  at  the  other  end  had  swallowed 
the  bait  and  was  making  away.  Then  rising 
slowly  to  his  feet  he  let  the  line  run  through  his 
fingers  until  he  took  a  good  brace  upon  the  seat 
of  his  boat  with  his  foot.  Then  he  grasped  the 
line  suddenly  with  both  hands,  and  setting  back 
[58] 


THE    OUTCAST 

upon  it  with  all  his  strength  he  stopped  it  for  an 
instant.  The  next  moment  there  was  a  whir  of 
whistling  line.  He  had  dropped  it  and  it  was 
flying  overboard.  Before  ten  fathoms  of  line 
had  gone,  Samuels  had  it  on  the  cleat  again 
and  was  snubbing  it  in  jerks  which  sent  his 
boat  as  deep  as  her  after  gunwale.  Soon,  how 
ever,  the  line  began  to  give  a  little.  Foot  by  foot 
he  hauled  it  in,  until  a  long  dark  form  showed 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  water.  It  was  only  a 
shark  after  all,  and  he  was  given  a  taste  of  the 
whale  lance  to  quiet  him. 

While  he  was  engaged  in  this  he  heard  a  sud 
den  roar  behind  him,  and  he  turned  in  time  to 
see  a  gigantic  form  disappear  in  a  tremendous 
smother  of  foam.  It  sounded  like  a  small  can 
non,  and  he  well  knew  there  was  only  one  creature 
in  the  Sound  that  could  break  water  with  such  a 
rush  and  smash. 

The  shark  was  forgotten,  and  as  soon  as  pos 
sible  the  hook  was  rebaited  and  cast.  The  other 
line  was  now  watched,  and  the  painter  of  the 
[59] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

other  boat  was  passed  over  to  make  them  tow 
together  if  the  line  should  be  taken. 

Suddenly  the  new  keeper,  who  had  been  look 
ing  steadily  over  the  side  into  the  clear  water, 
gave  a  shout  and  pointed  below. 

Just  a  fathom  beneath  the  boat's  keel  a  gigan 
tic  shadow  drew  slowly  up.  It  was  a  giant  ray, 
the  dreaded  sea-devil  they  had  been  waiting  for. 

Samuels  gazed  down  at  it  and  could  see  the 
stony  eyes  fixed  upon  him.  Grasping  a  har 
poon  he  sent  it  with  all  his  force  down  into  the 
depths.  It  was  a  wild  throw.  But  he  had  waited 
so  long  that  he  could  not  miss  any  chance. 

The  long  shank  of  the  iron  disappeared  in  the 
foam  of  the  splash.  Then  there  was  a  moment's 
pause.  Almost  instantly  afterwards  the  line  was 
flying  furiously  over  the  side.  The  toggle  had 
penetrated,  and  they  were  fast. 

The  assistant  keeper  tossed  over  the  anchor 
buoys  to  mark  the  slipped  moorings,  and  then 
Samuels  snubbed  the  line. 

Instantly  the  boats  were  jerked  half  under 
[60] 


THE    OUTCAST 

water.  Settling  back  as  far  as  they  could,  they 
both  tried  to  keep  the  bows  of  the  towing  craft 
from  being  towed  under,  and  the  line  had  to  be 
slacked  again  and  again  to  save  them.  Away 
they  went,  one  behind  the  other,  the  ray  leading, 
Samuels'  boat  next,  with  him  in  the  stern-sheets, 
holding  a  turn  of  the  line  which  led  over  the  run 
ner  in  the  stem,  and  the  new  keeper,  standing 
with  steering  oar  in  hand,  slewing  his  flying 
craft  first  one  side  and  then  the  other  to  keep 
dead  in  the  wake. 

The  breeze  making  from  the  sea  sent  the  spray 
over  the  boats  in  sheets,  but  they  held  on.  The 
devil  was  heading  for  the  bar  under  full  speed, 
for  the  iron  had  pricked  him  sorely  in  the  side, 
and  he  was  a  little  taken  aback  at  this  sudden 
reception.  He  could  not  yet  grasp  the  situation, 
and  would  circle  about  before  coming  close  to  the 
small  craft  again.  But  there  was  something 
dragging  upon  him  that  began  to  cause  alarm. 
There  was  a  line  to  the  thing  that  pricked  so 
sore.  The  feeling  at  first  caused  a  desire  to 
[61] 


escape  from  the  unknown  enemy,  but  gradually 
as  the  pain  increased  anger  began  to  take  the 
place  of  fright,  and  he  tried  to  find  out  just  who 
his  enemies  were.  He  swerved  near  the  can  buoy 
and  broached  clear  of  the  sea  to  get  a  better 
view.  The  crash  he  made  as  he  struck  the  sea 
again  sent  the  spray  high  in  the  air,  and  the 
line  was  whirled  out  with  renewed  force. 

But  the  men  behind  him  had  no  thought  of  let 
ting  go.  With  lance  in  hand  Samuels  waited 
patiently  for  a  chance  to  haul  line.  As  long  as 
the  toggle  would  hold  there  was  little  chance  for 
the  iron  drawing,  for  the  skin  of  the  ray  was  as 
tough  as  leather,  and  the  flesh  beneath  it  was 
firm. 

On  and  on  they  went,  the  flood  tide  setting 
strong  against  them.  The  swell  from  beyond 
the  bar  was  now  felt,  and  the  ocean  sparkled  in 
the  sunshine  where  it  was  ruffled  by  the  outside 
breeze.  Two,  three  miles  were  traversed,  but 
there  was  no  slacking  of  the  tremendous  pace. 
The  ray  evidently  intended  to  get  to  sea  before 
[62] 


THE    OUTCAST 

attempting  to  make  any  change  in  his  actions. 
He  was  going  at  a  ten-knot  gait,  keeping  now 
close  to  the  bottom,  and  heading  right  through 
the  north  breaker,  which  rolled  in  curved  lines  of 
white  foam  upon  the  bar.  The  channel  he  cared 
not  the  least  for,  and  Samuels  watched  the  roar 
ing  line  of  white  with  concern.  The  small  boats 
would  make  bad  weather  of  the  surf,  even  though 
the  sea  was  smooth,  for  the  swell  rose  high  and 
fell  heavily,  making  a  deep  rumbling  snore  which 
grew  louder  and  louder  as  they  approached. 
Far  away  the  lighthouse  shone  in  the  sunshine, 
and  the  buoys  stood  out  like  black  specks  to  mark 
the  way  through  the  channel. 

Samuels  got  out  his  hatchet  ready  for  a  sudden 
cut  at  the  line  if  the  surf  proved  too  dangerous. 
They  were  nearing  the  inner  line  of  breakers, 
and  it  would  be  only  a  matter  of  minutes  before 
they  were  either  through  or  swamped.  There 
must  be  some  hasty  judgment,  but  it  must  be  as 
accurate  as  it  would  be  hasty,  for  there  would 
be  no  chance  to  change  his  mind  when  the  water 
[63] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

rose  ahead.  It  was  breaking  in  a  good  fathom 
and  more. 

The  sea-devil  seemed  to  know  what  was  in 
store  for  the  boats  towing  behind.  He  broached 
again  and  took  a  good  look  astern  where  they 
flew  along  behind  him.  Then  with  redoubled 
speed  he  tore  through  the  inner  line  of  breaking 
water,  and  before  Samuels  could  grab  the  hatchet 
to  cut  loose,  his  boat  rose  upon  a  crested  breaker 
and  plunged  headlong  over  into  the  trough  be 
yond,  pulling  the  assistant  through,  and  almost 
swamping  him.  It  was  now  too  late  to  let  go. 
Ahead  was  another  wall  of  rising  water  which 
would  break  in  an  instant,  and  the  only  thing 
to  do  was  to  go  on  and  trust  to  the  boat's  riding 
over  it  all  right.  To  turn  the  slightest,  one  side 
or  the  other,  meant  to  be  rolled  over  in  the  rush 
of  foam. 

Samuels   held   on   grimly.      Once   outside  he 

hoped  to  haul  line  and  come  to  close  quarters 

with  the  devil.     Then  he  would  deal  with  him  in 

a  more  satisfactory  manner.     That  long  lance 

[64] 


THE    OUTCAST 

would  be  brought  into  play,  and  the  fight  would 
be  with  the  odds  upon  his  side.  But  he  had 
reckoned  somewhat  hastily  with  this  outcast  oi' 
the  ocean.  All  the  fearless  cunning  of  the  sea- 
scavenger  was  being  brought  into  play.  The 
pain  in  his  side  where  the  iron  held  was  making 
him  more  and  more  savage.  He  saw  it  was  use 
less  to  run  away,  for  the  iron  held  his  pursuers 
to  him.  He  had  only  intended  to  make  a  short 
run  at  the  beginning,  and  then  turn  to  meet 
whatever  there  was  in  the  shape  of  a  foe.  There 
was  little  fear  in  his  make-up.  The  sudden  alarm 
at  the  stroke  of  the  iron  was  merely  the  natural 
instinct  of  the  wild  creature  to  keep  out  of  harm's 
way.  He  had  intended  to  come  back  and  try  his 
hand  with  the  small  craft,  only  he  would  not  run 
into  unknown  trouble.  It  would  be  wiser  to  take 
things  easy  and  approach  the  matter  slowly, 
watching  a  good  chance  to  make  a  rush  in  when 
a  fitting  opportunity  occurred.  But  because  he 
would  go  slow  he  would  be  none  the  less  impla 
cable.  He  had  never  withdrawn  from  a  fight  yet, 
[65] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

and  his  peculiar  tenacity  had  more  than  once 
brought  him  off  victor  when  the  odds  were 
against  him.  He  was  wary — an  old  wary  fighter 
who  began  the  struggle  slowly  only  to  learn  the 
forces  opposed  to  him.  When  the  issue  was  well 
begun  he  would  break  forth  in  a  fury  unequaled 
in  any  other  denizen  of  the  ocean.  The  continual 
pain  of  the  pulling-iron  was  now  goading  him 
into  a  condition  of  frenzied  fury.  In  a  moment 
he  would  turn,  just  as  soon  as  he  had  the  small 
craft  well  into  the  foaming  water,  where  he  knew 
it  would  be  difficult  to  navigate. 

Samuels  had  thought  of  the  ray's  probable 
run  for  shoal  water,  and  dreaded  coming  up  with 
him  in  the  surf.  He  could  not  turn  his  small 
boat  broadside  to  the  breakers  without  getting 
rolled  over  and  swamped,  and  his  oars  would  be 
useless  to  pull  clear  with  the  iron  fast.  He  hoped 
the  ray  would  make  for  the  bottom  in  the  deep 
water  beyond  and  pull  him  through.  Just  as 
the  outer  breaker  rose  ahead  the  line  suddenly 
slacked. 

[66] 


THE    OUTCAST 

This  was  what  Samuels  dreaded  most,  and  he 
began  to  haul  in  hand  over  hand.  Instead,  how 
ever,  of  the  line  leading  ahead,  it  suddenly  let 
off  to  starboard,  and  he  was  forced  to  let  it  go 
and  take  to  his  oars  to  keep  the  boat's  head  to 
the  sea  that  was  now  upon  her.  He  called  to  the 
new  keeper,  who  let  go  the  line  between  the  boats, 
to  take  out  his  oars  also.  Both  now  headed 
straight  for  the  crest,  which  instantly  broke  over 
them,  half  filling  Samuels'  craft  and  settling  her 
almost  to  the  gunwales.  At  that  moment  the 
line  came  taut  with  a  jerk.  It  swung  the  boat's 
head  off  broadside  to  the  sea,  and  the  next  minute 
the  breaker  rolled  her  over  and  over.  As  it  did 
so  a  giant  form  rose  like  a  huge  bat  from  the 
foam  with  mouth  agape  and  flukes  extended,  its 
tail  stretching  out  behind,  and  the  line  from  the 
harpoon  trailing.  Down  it  came  with  a  crash 
which  resounded  above  the  roar  of  the  surf,  and 
the  l)oat  disappeared  from  view. 

Samuels    had    by    good    luck    been    thrown 
clear  of  the  craft  when  the  sea  struck,  and  his 
[67] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

head  appeared  a  fathom  distant  just  as  the  devil 
crashed  down.  It  was  a  close  call.  Then,  as  the 
half-sinking  boat  returned  slowly,  bottom 
up,  to  the  surface,  he  made  for  it  with  all 
speed. 

Beside  it  floated  the  long  wooden  handle  of 
the  lance,  the  blade  resting  upon  the  bottom  a 
fathom  below.  He  seized  it  as  he  grasped  the 
keel,  and  calling  for  the  keeper  in  the  other 
boat  to  look  out,  he  made  ready  for  the  devil's 
return,  for  the  line  was  not  pulling  the  boat 
away,  showing  that  the  slack  had  not  been 
taken  up,  and  that  the  creature  was  still 
close  by. 

He  was  not  wrong  in  this.  The  huge  devil 
swerved  almost  as  soon  as  he  disappeared  below 
the  surface  and  headed  back  again  slowly  to 
where  the  boat  lay  in  the  foam  of  the  breaker. 
He  kept  close  to  the  bottom  and  came  like  a 
shadow  over  the  sand. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  and  objects 
could  be  seen  easily.  Samuels  soon  made  out  a 
[68] 


THE    OUTCAST 

dark  object  creeping  up  from  the  side  where  the 
ray  had  gone  down.  The  water  was  hardly  over 
his  head  when  the  seas  broke,  and  between  them 
it  was  not  more  than  four  and  a  half  feet  deep. 
He  could  keep  his  head  out  and  his  feet  upon 
the  sand  until  the  rising  crest  would  lift  him 
clear,  when,  by  holding  to  the  upturned  boat's 
keel,  he  could  keep  his  head  out  until  the  breaker 
had  passed,  the  tide  setting  him  rapidly  towards 
the  deeper  water  inside  the  bar. 

The  keeper  in  the  other  boat  saw  the  shadow 
and  called  out,  at  the  same  time  getting  a  har 
poon  ready  and  resting  upon  his  oars.  The 
smooth  between  breakers  gave  both  a  good 
chance  to  note  the  position  of  the  approaching 
monster. 

The  sea-devil  came  slowly  up,  his  eyes  showing 
through  the  clear  water  and  the  line  from  the 
iron  trailing  behind  him.  When  within  a  couple 
of  fathoms  he  made  a  sudden  rush  at  the  cap 
sized  boat. 

The  new  keeper  threw  his  iron  well.  It  landed 
169] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

fairly  in  the  top  of  the  broad  back  and  sank 
deep,  but  it  did  not  in  the  least  stop  the  savage 
rush.  The  huge  bulk  rose  to  the  surface  at  the 
instant  the  iron  struck  and  came  straight  for 
Samuels,  who  held  the  lance  ready  in  one  hand 
and  clung  to  the  keel  of  his  boat  with  the  other. 
He  drove  the  long,  sharp  weapon  a  full  two  feet 
into  the  monster's  vitals  and  then  ducked  behind 
the  sunken  gunwale  to  avoid  the  teeth. 

There  was  a  terriffic  commotion  in  the  sea. 
The  devil  bit  savagely  at  Samuels'  arm,  but 
missed  it,  his  teeth  coming  upon  the  gunwale 
of  the  boat  and  shearing  out  a  piece.  Then  he 
gave  a  tremendous  rush  upon  the  craft  and 
drove  it  before  him  until  it  disappeared  under 
the  surface.  The  great  ray  smote  the  sea  with 
his  flukes  and  strove  after  his  prey,  but  the  lance 
was  firmly  planted  in  him,  and,  try  as  he  might, 
he  could  get  no  nearer  than  the  length  of  the 
handle  to  the  keeper,  for  with  this  grasped 
firmly  in  both  hands  Samuels  went  below  the 
surface  only  to  get  his  foothold  again  and  re- 
[70] 


THE    OUTCAST 

appear  to  be  driven  along  before  the  furious 
creature. 

Meanwhile  the  new  keeper  came  hauling  line 
from  the  rear.  There  was  a  smooth  between 
the  seas,  and  he  pulled  the  boat  close  to  the 
floundering  devil  before  he  knew  what  was 
taking  place.  Then,  with  three  irons  ready,  he 
drove  one  after  the  other  in  quick  succession  into 
the  monster.  Taken  from  the  rear  in  this  man 
ner  the  devil  whirled  about.  His  barbed  spear 
in  his  tail  he  drove  with  accuracy  at  the  form  in 
the  boat,  striking  the  keeper  in  the  thick  of  the 
thigh  and  piercing  it  through  and  through. 
He  fell  with  a  yell,  clutching  the  boat  to  keep 
from  being  drawn  overboard,  and  the  spear 
broke  off  short,  the  poisonous  barbs  remaining 
in  the  flesh. 

The  sudden  diversion  saved  Samuels.  He 
managed  to  withdraw  his  lance,  and  by  an  almost 
superhuman  effort  he  drove  it  again  into  the 
devil  just  as  a  sea  broke  over  him.  When  he 
came  to  the  surface  again  he  was  exhausted  and 
[71] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

expected  to  fall  a  victim,  but  the  great  creature 
made  no  attack  and  only  swam  around  in  a  circle, 
apparently  dazed. 

Samuels  lost  no  time  in  getting  aboard  the 
still  floating  craft,  taking  the  towline  with  him. 
She  was  full  of  water  from  the  breaker  which 
had  rolled  in,  but  it  had  struck  her  fairly  in  the 
bow  and  she  would  float  a  little  longer.  He 
reached  for  the  oars  and  held  her  head  to  the  sea, 
while  the  other  raised  himself  in  spite  of  the 
agony  of  his  poisoned  wound  and  bailed  for  his 
life. 

The  sea-devil  was  mortally  hurt  and  was  fail 
ing  fast.  He  came  to  the  surface  and  made  one 
blind  rush  at  the  boat,  but  he  missed  and  re 
ceived  the  last  iron  fairly  between  the  eyes. 
Then  he  began  to  go  slowly  away,  following  the 
flood  tide,  and  towing  both  boats  in  through 
the  breakers  to  the  smooth  water  beyond.  In 
a  short  time  the  motion  ceased,  and  Samuels 
hauled  in  the  lines  until  he  was  just  over 
the  body  in  two  fathoms  of  water  and  clear 
[7*] 


THE    OUTCAST 

of  the  surf  on  the  bar.  Then  he  turned  his  at 
tention  to  his  wounded  comrade,  and  by  great 
force  pulled  the  long,  barbed  spine  through  the 
flesh  of  his  thigh  and  sucked  the  wound.  As 
the  tide  was  flooding,  they  left  the  capsized  boat 
fast  to  the  devil  on  the  bottom  below,  knowing  it 
would  not  get  far  adrift,  and  made  their  way 
to  the  light,  where  the  keeper's  wound  was  care 
fully  cauterized  and  bound  up. 

The  great  ray  lay  quiet  for  some  time,  his 
flukes  acting  as  suckers  to  hold  him  down.  Then, 
the  feeling  that  his  end  was  at  hand  coming 
gradually  upon  him,  he  fought  against  the 
deadly  weakness  of  his  wounds.  Summing  up 
all  the  remaining  energy  within  his  giant  frame, 
he  rose  to  the  surface  to  make  one  last,  desperate 
rally  and  annihilate  the  towing  craft.  He 
breached  clear  of  the  sea  and  fell  with  a  re 
sounding  crash  upon  the  fabric,  smashing  it 
completely.  Then  he  tore  it  with  his  teeth  and 
flung  the  splinters  broadcast,  reaching  wildly 
for  anything  which  looked  like  a  human  form. 
[73] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

Then  he  suddenly  stopped  and  a  quiver  passed 
through  him.  He  gave  a  mighty  smash  with  his 
flukes  upon  the  remains  of  the  boat,  and  then 
his  life  went  out.  He  sank  slowly  down  upon 
the  clean  sand  below,  and  the  ground-sharks  of 
the  reef  came  silently  in  to  their  feast. 


THE  sSBADOG 


THE    SEA   DOG 

HE  was  a  yellow  brute,  mangy,  lean,  and 
treacherous-looking.     He  had  been  in 
two  ships  where  dogs  were  not  particu 
larly  liked  by  the  officers,  and  the  last  one  had 
gone  ashore  in  the  darkness  during  a  northeast 
gale  off  the  Frying  Pan.     How  he  had  come 
ashore  from  the  wreck  was  a  detail  beyond  his 
reasoning.     Here  he  was  on  the  beach  of  North 
Carolina,  and  not  one  of  his  shipmates  was  left 
to  take  care  of  him. 

He  had  at  first  foraged  among  the  bushes  of 
beach  myrtle  and  through  the  pine  woods,  steal 
ing  into  the  light-keeper's  yard  at  Bald  Head 
during  the  hours  of  darkness,  and  rummaging 
through  his  garbage  for  a  bit  of  food  to  keep 
the  life  within  his  mangy  hide.  He  had  now 
been  ashore  for  nearly  five  months,  and  during 
[77] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

all  that  time  he  had  shown  an  aversion  to  the 
light-keeper's  society.  There  was  no  other  hu 
man  habitation  on  the  island,  and  the  light- 
keeper  had  fired  a  charge  of  bird-shot  at  him  on 
two  occasions.  This  had  not  given  him  greater 
confidence  in  strangers,  and  that  which  he  had 
had  was  of  a  suspicious  kind,  born  and  nurtured 
aboard  ship,  where  a  kick  was  the  usual  saluta 
tion.  He  was  as  sly  as  a  wolf  and  as  wild  as  a 
razor-back  hog,  for  he  had  gradually  fallen 
upon  the  resources  of  the  wild  animal,  and  his 
one  thought  was  for  himself. 

He  had  broken  away  into  the  night  howling 
after  the  last  reception  by  the  light-keeper  at  the 
Bald  Head  tower,  and  sore  and  stiff  he  had 
crawled  into  the  bushes  to  pick  at  the  tiny 
pellets  that  stung  so  fiercely.  In  the  future 
he  would  be  more  careful.  He  must  watch. 
Eternal  vigilance  was  the  price  for  his  worthless 
life.  All  the  evil  desires  and  instincts  begotten 
through  a  line  of  rascally  curs  now  began  to 
grow  within  him.  He  would  not  repress  them, 
[78] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

for  was  it  not  manifest  that  he  must  exercise 
every  selfish  desire  to  its  utmost  if  he  would  live  ? 
His  eyes  took  on  that  wild,  hunted  look  of  the 
beast  with  whom  all  are  at  war,  and  his  teeth 
showed  fiercely  at  each  and  every  sound.  A 
sullen  savageness  of  mind  came  upon  him  more 
and  more  every  day,  until  after  these  months 
of  wildness  he  had  dropped  back  again  into  the 
natural  state  of  his  forefathers.  He  was  a  wild 
dog  in  every  sense.  As  wild  as  the  hogs  who 
rooted  through  the  pine  woods  or  tore  through 
the  swamp,  lean  as  deer  and  alert  to  every  dan 
ger,  the  degenerates  of  the  well-bred  pigs  of  the 
early  settlers. 

Sometimes  he  would  run  along  the  edge  of 
the  beach  in  the  sunlight  and  watch  the  surf,  but 
even  this  was  dangerous,  for  once  the  light- 
keeper  happened  to  be  out  hunting  and  sent  a 
rifle  bullet  singing  past  his  ears.  He  broke  for 
cover  again,  and  seldom  ventured  forth  except 
after  the  sun  went  down.  In  the  daytime  he 
would  go  slinking  through  the  gloom  of  the 
[79] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

dense  thickets  with  ears  cocked  and  senses  alert, 
watching  like  a  wolf  for  the  slightest  sign  of 
danger.  A  wolf  is  seldom  seen  unless  he  means 
to  be,  and  the  yellow  dog  soon  became  as  re 
tiring. 

Small  game  furnished  food  during  this  season, 
for  the  creeks  swarmed  with  fish  and  crabs,  which 
were  often  caught  in  shallows  at  low  water,  and 
gophers  were  plentiful,  but  sometimes  when  the 
wind  was  howling  and  soughing  through  the 
forest,  and  the  rain  rattling  and  whistling 
through  the  clearings,  he  would  try  the  light- 
keeper's  back  yard  again,  and  grab  a  defenseless 
duck  or  goose  that  happened  to  be  within  reach. 
Their  squawking  was  music  to  his  ears,  for  he 
remembered  the  flash  and  stinging  pain  follow 
ing  his  earlier  attempts  to  procure  food,  and  he 
would  dash  furiously  through  the  timber  with 
his  prize,  nor  stop  until  many  miles  were  be 
tween  him  and  the  bright  eye  that  flamed  high  in 
the  air  above  and  could  be  seen  fifteen  miles  or 
more  up  the  beach.  The  lighthouse  was  an 
[80] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

excellent  guide  for  him  in  all  kinds  of  weather, 
but  it  was  especially  useful  on  very  dark  and 
stormy  nights.  To  him  it  meant  a  guide  out  of 
danger,  even  as  it  did  to  his  earlier  masters,  and 
he  soon  learned  to  navigate  by  it. 

He  greAv  more  and  more  savage  as  his  life  in 
the  wilderness  went  on,  and  as  his  savageness  in 
creased  so  likewise  did  his  cunning. 

William  Ripley,  the  light-keeper,  and  his  as 
sistant,  were  both  good  hunters.  They  had 
plenty  of  time  during  daylight  to  make  long  ex 
cursions  along  the  beach,  and  through  the  pine 
woods,  and  they  often  brought  home  a  hog  or 
two.  They  were  worried  at  the  visits  from  the 
strange  animal  who  left  footprints  like  those  of 
a  dog,  and  who  kept  always  well  out  of  sight 
after  his  first  visits,  when  a  glimpse  of  yellow  had 
flashed  throug-h  the  darkness,  giving  something 
tangible  to  fire  at.  They  had  seen  the  vessel 
come  ashore  on  the  outer  shoals,  some  twelve 
miles  away,  and  had  seen  her  gradually  break  up 
without  being  able  to  lend  a  hand  at  saving  her 
[81] 


THE  STRIFE  OF  THE  SEA 
crew.  Nothing  had  washed  on  the  beach  that 
had  signs  of  life,  and  it  had  never  occurred  to 
them  that  a  yellow  dog  had  been  a  survivor  of 
that  tragedy.  The  wreck  had  been  visited  after 
wards,  and  the  vessel's  name  discovered,  but 
nothing  was  ever  heard  of  the  men  who  had 
manned  her,  and  who  had  evidently  gone  to  the 
port  of  missing  ships.  Their  interest  in  the  mat 
ter  ended  after  getting  a  few  fathoms  of  line 
and  a  bit  of  iron-work,  and  the  shifting  sands  of 
the  treacherous  Frying  Pan  soon  swallowed  up 
all  trace  of  the  disaster. 

But  ducks  and  geese  were  scarce  and  valuable. 
There  was  a  thief  abroad,  and  something  must 
be  done.  The  cold  weather  was  approaching, 
and  already  frost  had  turned  the  leaves  of  some 
of  the  trees.  Soon  a  slight  fall  of  snow  an 
nounced  that  winter  was  upon  the  coast  in 
earnest. 

The  cold  was  hard  upon  the  outcast.     His 
thin  hair  was  but  poor  protection   against  the 
wind,  and  the  food  of  the  creeks  was  disappear- 
[82] 


THE     SEA    DOG 

ing.  He  was  getting  more  and  more  savage  and 
desperate,  and  the  great  eye  that  shone  above 
him  through  the  blackness  was  attractive,  for  it 
showed  where  there  lay  plenty.  Often,  when  the 
gale  blew  from  the  northward,  and  the  weather 
was  thick,  the  wild  ducks  and  geese  came  rushing 
down  the  wind  and  headed  for  the  eye  that  shone 
so  brightly  in  the  night.  It  had  a  peculiar  daz 
zling  fascination  for  them,  and  they  would  go 
driving  at  it  with  a  rush  of  a  hundred  miles  an 
hour,  only  to  find  too  late  that  it  was  surrounded 
by  a  heavy  wire  net.  Then,  before  they  could 
swerve  off,  they  were  upon  it  with  a  terrific 
smash.  Headlong  into  the  iron  meshes  they 
would  drive  until,  flattened  and  distorted  lumps 
of  flesh  and  feathers,  they  would  go  tumbling 
down  to  the  ground  beneath.  In  the  morning 
the  keeper  would  see  traces  of  their  feathers 
and  sometimes  a  duck  or  two,  but  more  often  he 
saw  the  footprints  of  the  strange  animal  that  so 
resembled  either  a  dog  or  wolf. 

"  I  reckon  it's  about  time  we  caught  up  with 
[83] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

that  un,"  said  Ripley,  one  morning ;  "  there 
aint  been  no  wolves  around  this  here  island  sence 
I  kin  remember,  an'  I'm  bound  to  find  out  jest 
what  kind  o'  critter  this  one  is.  Why,  what  d'ye 
s'pose  he  done  last  night,  hey?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me  no  riddles  when  I'm  sleepy," 
said  the  assistant. 

"  Oh,  well,  it's  no  matter,  then,"  said  Ripley, 
and  he  turned  into  the  house. 

"  Well,  what?  "  asked  the  assistant. 

"  The  first  thing  he  done  was  to  eat  the  seat 
out'n  your  pants  you  left  hangin'  on  the  line,  but 
that's  no  matter — 

"  What  next?  "  asked  the  assistant,  awaken 
ing  a  little. 

"  Well,  he  chewed  the  uppers  off'n  your  rubber 
boots,  them  ones  you  said  cost  five  dollars ' 

"Name  o'  sin,  no!  Did  he?  Where's  the 
gun,  quick " 

"  Hold  on  a  bit.  Wait  a  minute,"  interrupted 
Ripley.  "  There  aint  no  hurry  about  the  case. 

I  was  jest  a-sayin' " 

[84] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  assistant   earnestly. 

"  Well,  then,  don't  interrupt  me  no  more. 
That  blamed  critter  got  old  red-head  by  th'  neck 
an'  walked  off  with  him,  an'  there  aint  no  better 
rooster  ever  been  hatched.  That's  erbout  all." 

"  You  kin  hand  me  down  the  rifle,"  said  the  as 
sistant  ;  "  that  critter  or  me  leaves  this  here 
island,  an'  that's  a  fact." 

The  track  led  down  the  beach,  and  there  was 
no  trouble  following  it.  The  assistant  started 
off  at  a  swinging  pace,  determined  to  cover  the 
distance  between  himself  and  the  thief  before 
midday. 

But  the  track  soon  led  into  the  scrub  and  was 
lost.  When  it  was  taken  up  again  it  was  a  good 
half-mile  farther  down  the  shore.  Here  it  swung 
along  easily  for  a  short  distance  until  a  heavy 
belt  of  timber  was  reached,  and  where  the  ground 
was  hard  and  covered  with  pine-needles.  There 
all  trace  of  it  was  swallowed  up  as  soon  as  it 
struck  the  pines.  The  assistant  came  home  that 
evening  a  tired  but  no  wiser  man.  That  night 
[85] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

the  outcast  saw  the  man-tracks,  and  knew  he  had 
been  followed,  and  the  spirit  of  deviltry  entered 
deeper  into  his  pariah  soul.  He  would  make 
them  sorry  for  his  nightly  visits.  All  were  ene 
mies  to  him,  and  the  more  harm  he  could  do  to 
everything  alive  the  better  it  would  be.  Savagely 
he  snarled  at  the  footprints.  As  the  moon 
rose  he  saw  the  beautiful  light  silvering  the  cold 
ocean,  and  it  stirred  something  in  his  hard  heart. 
He  raised  his  nose  high  in  the  air  and  let  forth  a 
long  howl  of  fierce  defiance  and  wrath. 

Slinking  through  the  darkening  shadows  of 
the  forest,  the  outcast  made  his  way  to  the  clear 
ing  wherein  the  great  eye  rose  above  the  ground 
to  the  height  of  a  hundred  feet  or  more.  Here 
he  halted  upon  the  outer  edge,  where  the  thicket 
hid  him  in  its  black  shadow.  Then  he  raised  his 
voice  in  such  a  prolonged  howl  that  the  fowls 
secured  within  the  coops  of  the  yard  set  up  a 
vast  cackling.  He  changed  his  position  in  time 
to  avoid  a  charge  of  buckshot  which  tore  through 
the  thicket  and  rattled  about  the  leaves  beneath 
[86] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

the  trees.  Then  he  slunk  away  for  a  little  while, 
only  to  return  again  and  give  vent  to  his  feel 
ings  in  a  succession  of  yelping  barks,  such  as  had 
never  disturbed  the  quiet  of  the  island  before. 
Another  charge  of  shot  rattled  about  him,  but  he 
was  now  far  too  wary  to  get  hit,  and  his  hatred 
was  greater  than  his  fear.  It  gave  him  a  savage 
joy  to  listen  to  the  crack  of  the  gun  or  the 
sharper  snap  of  the  rifle,  for  he  knew  it  worried 
the  keeper  to  hear  him  and  know  he  was  near. 
Night  after  night  he  now  came,  and  many  were 
the  shots  fired  at  him,  but  all  to  no  avail.  He 
would  do  any  mischief  he  could,  and  woe  to  any 
duck  or  chicken  that  came  within  his  reach.  His 
high,  yelping  howl  resounded  through  the  clear 
ing  and  sounded  above  the  dull  roar  of  the  surf, 
making  night  hideous  to  the  keeper  on  watch  in 
the  light  above. 

Once  he  caught  a  loose  fowl,  and  its  feathers 

were  strewn  about  the  yard.     Again  he  found  a 

string  of  fine  fish  the  keeper  had  hung  up  for 

the  night.     They  went  the  way  of  the  ill-fated. 

[87] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

His  keen  sense  of  smell  told  him  many  things  the 
keepers  did  not  wish  him  to  know,  and  he  man 
aged  to  keep  out  of  harm's  way. 

But  this  could  not  last.  Ripley  was  an  old 
hunter,  and  was  not  to  be  disturbed  beyond  rea 
son.  He  brought  out  an  old  mink-trap,  with 
steel  jaws  of  great  power,  and  he  buried  it  in 
the  sand  on  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  smoothing 
the  rumpled  surface  of  the  ground  so  that  noth 
ing  showed,  and  strewing  the  place  with  dead 
leaves.  Then  he  killed  a  sea-gull  and  dropped  it 
almost  directly  over  the  steel  jaws.  The  outcast 
would  doubtless  smell  it  and  stop  a  moment  to  in 
vestigate.  He  had  only  to  step  upon  the  ground 
in  the  near  vicinity  and  his  leg  would  be  instantly 
clasped  in  a  steel  embrace. 

The  first  night  the  keeper  watched  for  him. 
It  was  very  dark,  and  the  cold  north  wind 
soughed  through  the  pines,  and  the  surf  thun 
dered.  The  cold  made  the  keeper's  teeth  chatter 
a  little  as  he  watched  in  silence  from  his  place 
upon  the  outer  rail  of  the  tower.  He  had  his  rifle 
[88] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

with  him  for  a  finish,  should  the  trap  take 
hold. 

The  outcast  came  slinking  along  late  that 
night.  He  was  hungry  and  wet,  and  the  light 
attracted  him  as  it  did  always  on  particularly 
bad  nights,  for  it  stood  for  the  mark  of  plenty, 
the  only  thing  on  the  barren  island  that  kept  a 
glimmering  of  the  past  in  his  sullen  mind.  He 
noticed  a  peculiar  smell  as  he  skirted  the  fringe 
of  the  cover,  and  soon  spied  the  dead  gull.  How 
came  it  there,  was  the  question.  Gulls  did  not 
die  ashore.  At  least,  he  had  never  seen  one.  But 
he  knew  them  in  the  air.  There  was  something 
suspicious  in  the  matter.  Why  should  a  gull  be 
dead  so  close  to  the  lighthouse?  He  began  to 
investigate,  and  drew  near  the  danger  zone. 

But  months  of  wildncss  had  made  him  cun 
ning.  All  the  sly  instincts  of  the  races  of  ani 
mals  from  which  he  had  sprung  had  been  devel 
oping.  He  approached  the  bait  slowly,  barely 
moving,  and  touching  the  ground  ever  so  lightly 
with  his  paws.  Then  he  halted.  No,  it  would 
[89] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

not  do.  There  was  something  wrong  with  that 
bird,  showing  like  a  bit  of  white  in  the  darkness. 
He  could  smell  it  plainly.  It  was  the  scent  of  a 
man.  He  drew  slowly  off,  and  began  nosing 
about  for  the  trail,  and  soon  found  it.  He  fol 
lowed  along,  and  it  led  straight  to  the  dwelling 
where  the  keeper  lived.  Then  he  went  back  a 
little  way  into  the  scrub  and  sat  upon  his 
haunches,  and,  in  spite  of  his  cold  and  hunger, 
he  lifted  up  his  voice  in  a  long,  dismal  howl,  that 
to  the  keeper's  ears  had  an  unmistakable  ring  of 
derision. 

Night  after  night  the  trap  was  set,  but  the 
pariah  kept  clear.  Then,  one  day,  it  grew  thick, 
and  a  cold  wind  began  setting  in  from  the  sea. 
Before  night  it  was  howling  and  snoring  away 
with  hurricane  force,  driving  the  seas  roaring  up 
the  sands,  and  tearing  their  tops  into  smothers 
of  snowy  spume  drift. 

The  pariah  came  to  the  beach  and  tried  to 
look  seaward  to  see  what  was  coming  with  that 
fearful  rushing  blast,  but  the  wind  was  so  strong 
[90] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

and  the  snow  so  blinding  that  he  soon  took  to  the 
cover,  and  headed  for  the  light,  in  the  hope  he 
might  pick  up  something  to  eat  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  keeper's  dwelling.  Before  going  to  the  yard 
he  looked  again  seaward  and  saw  a  light  flash 
out.  He  did  not  know  what  it  meant,  but  he 
knew  it  was  off  on  the  Frying  Pan,  far  out  on 
the  treacherous  shoals  where  a  thundering 
smother  of  rolling  whiteness  flashed  and  gleamed 
now  and  again.  Then  he  skirted  the  clearing, 
and  brought  up  back  of  the  fowl-house,  where 
now  all  the  ducks  and  chickens  were  secured  at 
night. 

He  went  forward,  trying  to  smell  his  way, 
but  the  snow  was  too  much  for  him.  Then  he 
stopped  a  moment.  He  located  the  house  and 
started  again,  when  suddenly,  "  Snap !  " 

Something  had  leaped  from  the  ground  and 
seized  his  foreleg  in  a  viselike  grip.  He  sprang 
forward  and  fought  to  get  away,  but  it  was  of 
no  use.  The  thing  had  him  fast  with  an  awful 
grasp  that  cut  into  his  flesh  and  squeezed  his 
[91] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

leg  so  tight  that  it  soon  became  numb.  With 
snarling  growls,  he  fought  desperately  on,  twist 
ing  and  turning,  struggling  and  biting,  but  all 
to  no  purpose.  He  was  fast.  Then  the  state  of 
affairs  began  to  dawn  upon  him,  and  he  desisted, 
for  the  agony  was  supreme.  Sitting  there  in  the 
flying  snow  of  the  winter's  night,  with  the  roar 
of  the  storm  sounding  over  him,  he  raised  his 
voice  in  a  long,  yelping  bark  of  challenge  and 
disdain. 

But  in  spite  of  his  howling  no  one  came  near 
him.  The  snow  grew  deeper  and  the  wind  roared 
with  terrific  force,  blinding  him  so  that  the  great 
eye  above  was  scarcely  visible.  He  remained 
quiet  now,  and  waited  patiently  for  the  daylight, 
which  would  mean  his  end.  His  sufferings  were 
terrible,  but  he  could  not  help  it,  and  soon  a  sul 
len  stupor  came  upon  him. 

In  the  dim  gray  of  the  early  morning  forms 

were  seen  walking  about  the  lighthouse.     They 

were  men,  and  among  them  was  the  keeper.    The 

others  wore  clothes  that  reminded  the  pariah  of 

[92] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

former  days,  and  one  stranger  seemed  to  be  fa 
miliar  to  him.  This  was  a  man,  short,  broad,  and 
bearded,  with  bow  legs  set  wide  apart,  and  long 
arms  with  huge  hands  and  crooked  fingers.  He 
was  ugly,  and  reminded  him  of  the  crabs  he  had 
seen  and  captured  in  the  streams  during  the  sum 
mer.  There  was  something  of  the  crab  about 
the  queer  little  fellow,  and  his  very  ugliness  at 
tracted  the  dog's  attention.  It  brought  back 
some  memory  of  past  days,  a  memory  that  was 
not  all  unpleasant,  yet  indistinct  and  unreal. 

As  the  day  dawned  and  the  snow  grew  deeper 
the  outcast  waited  no  longer.  He  held  up  his 
nose  and  let  forth  a  howl  that  was  heard  above 
the  snore  of  the  gale,  and  which  brought  the 
light-keeper  to  attention.  He  came  running 
with  a  club,  and  behind  him  followed  the  stranger 
with  the  crablike  body. 

"  Sink  me  if  I  aint  got  ye  at  last,  ye  var 
mint  !  "  yelled  the  keeper  as  he  drew  near.  Then 
he  halted.  "  A  dog — what — jest  a  common 
everyday  dog?  But  I'll  make  a  good  dog  out 
[93] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

oj  3re  in  a  minute.  All  dead  dogs  is  good  dogs, 
an'  you'll  do." 

He  advanced  with  raised  club,  and  the  pariah 
crouched  for  a  spring.  He  would  try  for  one 
last  good  bite.  All  the  savageness  of  his  mixed 
blood  surged  through  his  fierce  mind.  He  gave 
a  low  growl  and  showed  his  teeth,  and  his  eyes 
were  like  bits  of  yellow  flame. 

"  Hold  on  thar,  stranger ;  don't  kill  that  'ar 
dog.  Wait  a  bit,"  said  the  ugly  man,  waddling 
up  behind.  "  What,  caught  'im  in  a  trap  ?  " 

"  Sure  I  got  him  in  a  trap.  D'ye  want  me  to 
loose  him?  "  asked  the  keeper  testily. 

"  That's  erbout  the  size  o'  my  games,"  said 
the  ugly  man.  "  Yew  may  think  it  a  go,  but 
that  'ar  dog  looks  uncommon  like  the  one  I  lost 
aboard  the  Seagull  when  she  went  ashore  here 
abouts  last  year.  He  ware  a  good  dog,  part 
wolf,  part  hound,  and  the  rest  a  mixture  I  don't 
exactly  remember.  Lemme  try  'im  ?  " 

"  Gwan,  man ;  that  critter  is  been  stealin' 
chickens  since  last  summer,"  said  the  keeper,  but 
[94] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

at  the  same  time  he  allowed  the  ugly  fellow  to 
have  his  way. 

"  Hey,  Sammy,  Sammy,  Sammy !  "  said  the 
ugly  sailor.  "  Don't  yew  know  me,  Sammy?  " 
And  he  bent  forward  toward  him. 

The  pariah  gazed  at  him.  What  did  he 
mean?  What  was  that  voice?  It  sounded  like 
that  of  the  man  who  had  brought  him  aboard 
the  vessel  he  had  gone  ashore  in.  The  only  hu 
man  who  had  never  struck  him  or  offered  him 
harm.  He  hardly  remembered  the  ugly  fellow, 
for  he  had  only  been  in  the  ship  a  short  time 
before  she  was  lost. 

"  Strange,  that  looks  like  the  critter  sure 
enough.  I  went  ashore  here  in  the  Seagull  a 
year  ago,  an'  here  I  goes  ashore  agin  in  this 
howlin'  wind  an'  sees  the  dog  I  lost.  Strange, 
keeper,  it's  strange,  hey?  " 

"  He  do  appear  to  know  ye,  an'  that's  a  fact," 
said  the  keeper.    "  Would  ye  like  me  to  loose  him 
off  ?  Better  do  it  afore  the  assistant  comes  down, 
fer  he's  got  it  in  fer  this  dog." 
[95] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  said  the  ugly  fellow,  and  he 
advanced  closer  to  the  outcast.  He  put  out  his 
hand,  and  the  dog  wavered.  Should  he  seize  it? 
He  could  crush  it  and  tear  it  badly  in  his  teeth 
before  he  could  withdraw  it,  and  they  would 
probably  kill  him  anyway  in  the  end.  But  there 
was  something  in  the  ugly  man's  eye  that  re 
strained  him — something  that  spoke  of  former 
times  when  all  was  not  strife.  No,  he  would  not 
bite  him. 

"  Turn  the  critter  loose;  he's  my  dog  fer 
sure,"  said  the  ugly  man.  "  All  he  wants  is 
some  grub.  I  reckon  yew'd  be  savage,  too,  if  yew 
had  been  out  in  the  snow  all  night.  I  knows 
I  ware  when  I  come  in  half  drowned  this 
mornin'." 

The  keeper  pried  the  trap  open  and  the  cur 
went  free. 

"  Come,  Sammy,  Sammy,  Sammy ! "  said  the 
ugly  fellow,  and  he  led  the  way  to  the  house. 

The  pariah  hesitated.  His  foot  was  useless, 
but  he  could  go  on  three  legs.  There  was  the 
[96] 


THE    SEA    DOG 

timber  a  short  distance  away.  He  looked  at  it 
for  an  instant.  Then  he  saw  the  ugly  man  beck 
oning  with  his  great  crooked  finger.  He  low 
ered  his  head  and  gave  a  short  whine.  Then  he 
limped  slowly  after  him  to  the  house. 

A  little  later  the  ugly  man  fed  him  and  bound 
up  the  wounded  paw,  while  the  assistant  mumbled 
something  about  rubber  boots  and  breeches  worth 
about  seven  dollars  a  pair. 

"  Messmates,"  said  the  ugly  sailor,  shifting 
his  crablike  body  and  sticking  out  his  great 
bushy  face  with  its  red  beard,  "  that  'ar  dog 
ware  a  good  dog,  part  wolf,  part  hound,  an'  the 
rest  I  don't  exactly  recollect,  but  he  ware  a  good 
dog.  Treat  a  dog  good  an'  he'll  be  a  good  dog. 
Treat  'im  bad  an'  he'll  be  a  bad  dog.  When  ye 
go  erbout  more  among  men,  as  I  does,  yew'll  see 
that  what  I  says  is  so.  An'  men  is  mostly  like 
dogs." 

The  assistant  kept  quiet,  for  there  was  some 
thing  peculiarly  aggressive  in  that  misshapen 
man.  The  animal  was  led  away  with  a  string, 
[97] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

and  went  in  the  boat  to  Wilmington  with  the 
wrecked  crew. 

Two  years  later  another  ship  was  added  to  the 
list  of  those  whose  bones  rest  in  the  sands  of  the 
Frying  Pan  Shoals.  She  ran  on  the  outer 
breaker  during  the  night,  and  in  the  morning 
the  keeper  saw  a  floating  object  on  the  shore. 
He  went  to  it  and  found  the  body  of  a  man  whose 
peculiar  figure  he  recognized.  A  life-buoy  was 
strapped  about  his  waist,  and  in  his  great 
crooked  fingers  was  a  line.  The  keeper  hauled 
it  in,  and  on  the  end  of  it  he  found  the  dead 
body  of  the  yellow  beast  that  had  stolen  his  fowls. 
They  had  gone  to  their  end  together. 


[98] 


TheC&peliomers 


THE    CAPE    HORNERS 

TO  the  southward  of  where  the  backbone 
of  the  western  hemisphere  dips  beneath 
the  sea  rises  a  group  of  ragged,  storm- 
swept  crags  and  peaks, — the  wild  rocks  of  the 
Diego  Ramirez.  Past  them  flows  the  current  of 
the  great  Antarctic  Drift,  sweeping  from  the 
father  of  all  oceans — the  vast  South  Pacific, — 
away  to  the  eastward,  past  the  bleak  pinnacles  of 
Cape  Horn,  to  disperse  itself  through  the  Le- 
maire  Strait  and  Falkland  Channel  northward 
into  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 

With  the  wild  snore  of  the  great  west  wind 
sounding  over  them,  and  the  chaotic  thunder  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean  falling  upon  their  sides,  they 
are  lonely  and  inhospitable,  and  are  seldom,  if 
ever,  visited  by  man.  Only  now  and  then  he  sees 
them,  when  the  wind-jammer  fighting  to  go  past 
[101] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

the  last  corner  gets  driven  close  in  to  the  land  of 
fire.  Then,  on  some  bleak  and  dreary  morning, 
when  the  west  wind  is  roaring  through  downhaul 
and  clewline  and  under  the  storm  topsails,  the 
heavy  drift  may  break  away  for  a  few  minutes 
and  show  the  wary  navigator  a  glimpse  of  the 
death-trap  under  his  lee  that  will  add  a  few  gray 
hairs  to  his  head,  and  bring  the  watch  below 
tumbling  on  deck  to  man  the  braces. 

Bare  of  vegetation  and  desolate  as  they  are, 
the  rocks  are  inhabited.  To  the  leeward  of  the 
great  Cape  Horn  sea  that  crashes  upon  them, 
the  ledges  and  shelves  are  full  of  life.  In  the 
shelter,  the  strange  forms  sit  and  gaze  seaward, 
peering  this  way  and  that,  squawking  and  scold 
ing  in  hoarse  voices  that  might  be  heard  above 
the  surf-thunder.  They  appear  like  great  geese 
sitting  on  their  tails,  for  they  sit  upright,  their 
feet  being  placed  well  down  on  their  long  bodies, 
giving  them  a  grotesque  look  that  is  sometimes 
absurdly  human. 

They  have  no  wings, — only  little  rudiments 
[102] 


THE     CAPE     H  O  R  N  E  R  S 

covered  with  fine  hairlike  feathers  that  serve  as 
side  fins  when  swimming.  They  never  flap  them, 
as  do  their  cousins,  the  Cape  pigeons  and  alba 
trosses.  In  fact,  their  bodies  are  covered  with 
short,  close,  hairlike  feathers,  very  minute,  sel 
dom  wider  than  a  pencil's  point,  and  lying  tight 
to  the  skin,  like  scales  on  a  fish.  These  figures 
have  birdlike  heads,  not  unlike  those  of  diver- 
ducks,  and  they  have  beautiful  black  eyes,  with 
red  rings  around  them.  They  are  the  creatures 
that  hold  sway  over  the  barren  crags,  waddling 
and  walking  about  in  their  absurd  way  until  a 
great  man-seal  shows  his  bristling  whiskers  close 
to  the  ledge.  Then  they  gave  forth  the  loud, 
long-drawn,  wild  cry  that  is  so  well  known  to 
the  Cape  Homer,  waddle  to  the  brink,  plunge 
headlong  into  the  sea,  and  disappear. 

They  are  the  penguins  of  the  southern  zone, 
half  bird,  half  fish,  and,  one  might  say,  half  hu 
man,  to  judge  by  their  upright  waddle  on  their 
webbed  feet. 

The  one  whose  story  is  now  to  be  told  was 
[103] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

hatched  on  the  Ramirez,  high  above  the  lift  of 
the  Cape  sea,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  straying 
seals. 

He  belonged  to  a  brood  of  three,  and  first 
saw  the  light  a  little  after  New  Year's  Day,  or 
midsummer  there.  There  was  no  sheltering  nest 
to  guard  him  against  the  bleak  wind,  which  is 
nearly  as  cold  in  summer  as  in  winter.  He  came 
into  the  world  on  a  bare  rock  and  announced  him 
self  by  a  strange,  chirping  sound  that  caused  his 
mother  to  waddle  off  a  few  feet  and  gaze  at  him 
in  astonishment.  He  was  followed  by  his  two 
brothers,  and,  within  a  very  short  time,  showed 
an  inclination  to  follow  his  parent  down  the  ledge 
and  into  the  dark  water  where  the  kelp  weed 
floated  in  sheltered  spots  between  the  rocks.  He 
was  but  a  fluffy  ball,  of  the  size  of  a  baby's  fist, 
but  he  stood  with  dignity  upon  his  short  legs 
and  labored  over  the  rough  places,  sometimes 
falling  and  rolling  over  a  step  in  the  rock  until, 
with  a  splash,  he  landed  in  the  sea. 

At  last !  That  was  the  place  he  was  meant  for. 
[  104] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

How  fine  it  was  to  scull  one's  self  furiously  along 
the  surface  and  then  suddenly  dive  and  go  shoot 
ing  through  the  depths,  coming  up  again  to  see 
if  his  parent  were  at  hand ;  for,  in  spite  of  the  de 
lightful  novelty  of  life,  there  was  within  him  a 
strange  feeling  of  fear,  something  that  made 
him  seek  his  mother's  side  continually.  The 
heavy  snore  of  the  great  Cape  Horn  sea,  break 
ing  to  windward  of  the  rocks,  sounded  a  deep 
note  of  menace,  a  warning  of  the  fierce,  wild 
world  in  which  only  the  hardiest  could  hope  to 
survive,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  tell  of  a  power  that 
ruled  his  destiny. 

His  brothers  swam  near,  and  he  was  joined  by 
countless  myriads  of  other  birds.  With  pen 
guins,  strength  ashore  exists  solely  in  numbers, 
and  the  bare  cliffs  must  be  covered  with  sturdy 
birds  ready  to  snap  and  strike  fiercely  with  their 
strong,  sharp  beaks  at  each  and  every  intruder, 
if  they  would  have  security.  Woe  to  the  alba 
tross  or  mollemoke  that  attempts  a  landing  on 
the  sacred  shore !  He  will  be  met  by  an  army  of 
[105] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

powerful  birds  walking  erect  as  soldiers  and  stab 
bing  and  biting  with  incredible  power. 

Soon  this  young  one's  downy  feathers  hard 
ened.  They  did  not  grow  like  those  of  an  ordi 
nary  bird.  They  were  hardened  almost  to  bone, 
and  pressed  so  stiff  against  his  skin  that  it  would 
be  difficult  to  distinguish  them  from  the  scales 
of  a  rockfish  or  a  cod.  His  wings  were  no  more 
than  flippers,  exactly  like  those  of  a  turtle,  and 
were  without  a  bending  joint  at  the  pinion. 
They  were  devoid  of  feathers  also,  but,  as  he 
would  never  use  them  in  the  air,  this  made  it  all 
the  better.  They  could  scull  him  along  faster 
under  the  sea.  Already  he  could  go  fast  enough 
to  catch  any  fish  in  the  vicinity,  and,  as  for  the 
great  seals,  they  simply  amused  him  with  their 
clumsy  attempts  to  catch  him.  On  land  he  could 
hop  about  on  his  short  legs,  but  he  preferred  the 
water  for  safety,  and  seldom  took  to  the  rocks. 

During  this  period  of  his  life  he  kept  well  with 
the  crowd  of  companions  about  him.  Even  the 
albatrosses,  the  huge  destroyers,  kept  their  dis- 
[106] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

tancc,  for,  as  they  would  swoop  down  in  great 
circles  near  the  young  birds,  they  would  meet  an 
almost  solid  phalanx  of  screaming  and  snapping 
beaks,  and  would  sweep  about  in  giant  curves 
until,  seeing  no  chance  to  rush  in,  they  would 
stand  out  to  sea  again  and  disappear. 

Gradually,  as  the  months  passed,  the  older 
penguins  began  to  scatter.  Some  went  farther 
and  farther  off  shore,  until,  at  length,  when  the 
cold  July  sun  swept  but  a  small  arc  of  a  circle 
above  the  horizon,  they  left  the  rocks  and  faced 
the  wild  ocean  that  sweeps  past  the  Horn.  Our 
young  one  now  felt  a  desire  to  roam  with  the  rest, 
and,  one  day,  when  the  snore  of  the  gale  droned 
over  the  barren  lumps,  bringing  thick  squalls  of 
sleet  and  snow,  he  put  out  into  the  open  sea  and 
headed  away  for  the  Strait  of  Magellan. 

Away  through  the  dark  water  he  went,  his 
feeling  of  loneliness  increasing  as  the  land  disap 
peared.  The  very  majesty  of  that  great  waste 
of  rolling  sea  impressed  him,  and  an  instinctive 
longing  to  realize  what  it  meant  came  over  him. 
[107] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

He  raised  his  head  into  the  air  and  gave  forth  a 
long,  deep,  sonorous  cry ;  but  the  dark  ocean 
made  no  answer,  the  only  sound  being  the  distant 
noise  of  some  combing  crest  that  broke  and  rolled 
away  to  the  southward.  There  was  not  a  living 
thing  in  sight. 

Through  the  gloom  he  made  his  way  with  the 
feeling  of  adventure  growing.  He  kept  a  look 
out  for  small  fish,  and  repeatedly  dived  to  a  great 
depth,  but,  even  down  there,  where  the  light 
failed  entirely,  there  was  nothing.  Only  once 
during  the  day  did  he  see  anything  alive,  and 
this  was  after  hours  of  swimming.  A  dark  ob 
ject  showed  upon  the  slope  of  a  swell.  It  looked 
like  a  triangular  knife-blade,  and  cut  the  water 
easily,  while  the  dark  shadow  beneath  the  sur 
face  appeared  almost  as  inert  as  a  log  or  a  piece 
of  wreckage.  The  penguin  drew  nearer  to  it  to 
investigate,  for  one  of  his  strongest  feelings  was 
a  desire  to  find  out  about  things.  Then  the  ob 
ject  drew  toward  him  and  appeared  to  be  drift 
ing  to  meet  him.  Suddenly  there  was  a  rush 
[108] 


THE     CAPE     H  O  R  N  E  R  S 

through  the  water.  The  protruding  fin  ripped 
the  surface  of  the  rolling  swell,  and,  as  it  came  on 
the  forward  slope,  the  penguin  saw  a  pair  of 
enormous  jaws  opening  in  front  of  him,  while  a 
row  of  teeth  showed  white  in  the  dark  water.  He 
made  a  sudden  swerve  aside  and  missed  the  open 
ing  by  a  hair's  breadth.  Before  the  shark  could 
turn  to  pursue  him,  he  dived  and  set  off  at  a 
great  rate  of  speed  below  the  surface,  and  was 
soon  out  of  the  way.  He  had  learned  to  look  for 
danger  wherever  he  might  meet  another  such 

O  cz> 

peculiar-shaped  object,  and  the  lesson  would  be 
of  use,  for  there  is  no  sea  where  sharks  are  not 
found. 

Between  Terra  del  Fuego  and  Staten  Land 
lies  the  narrow  water  of  Lemaire  Strait. 
Through  this  channel  the  current  rushes  with  in 
credible  speed,  swirling  around  the  reefs  and 
foamino-  over  the  sunken  ledges  that  line  the 

O 

shore.       The    tussock-covered    hills    of    barren 
shingle  form  a  background  so  bleak  and  uninhab 
ited  that  many  of  the  large  sea  fowl  find  it  safe 
[109] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

to  trust  themselves  upon  the  cliffs  where  nothing 
may  approach  from  shoreAvard  to  take  them  un 
awares.  The  rocks  are  covered  with  weed,  and 
plenty  of  whale-food  drifts  upon  them,  so  that 
there  is  always  a  supply  for  winter.  There  the 
penguin  landed  after  days  of  cruising,  and 
waddled  on  shore  for  the  first  time  since  leaving 
the  place  of  his  birth. 

To  the  westward,  across  the  strait,  the  fires 
from  the  hills  where  the  savages  dwelt  shone  in 
the  gloom  of  the  twilight.  They  were  attractive, 
and  often  he  would  sit  and  watch  them  in  the 
growing  gloom  of  the  long  winter  evenings  after 
he  had  come  ashore  from  a  day's  fishing,  wonder 
ing  at  the  creatures  who  made  them.  The  light 
was  part  of  his  mental  enjoyment,  and  some 
times,  after  looking  for  an  hour  or  more,  he 
would  raise  his  head,  which  had  a  long,  sharp 
beak,  and,  with  lungs  full  of  air,  let  forth  a  wild, 
lonely  cry.  For  days  and  days  he  would  come 
and  go,  seeing  no  companions  save  the  raucous 
whale-birds  who  would  come  in  on  the  rock  and 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

who  had  no  sympathy  with  his  fishing.  They 
were  mere  parasites,  and  depended  upon  the 
great  animals  to  show  them  their  food. 

As  the  months  passed  and  the  sun  began  to 
stay  longer  above  the  horizon,  he  became  more 
and  more  lonesome.  A  longing  for  companion 
ship  came  upon  him,  and  he  would  sit  and  gaze 
at  the  fires  across  the  strait  until  he  gave  vent 
to  his  feelings  with  his  voice. 

One  day,  when  the  sun  shone  brightly,  he  came 
upon  the  ledge  and  rested.  He  was  not  very 
tired,  but  the  sun  was  warm  and  the  bright  rays 
were  trying  to  his  eyes  after  the  long  gloom  of 
the  winter.  The  ragged  mountains  stood  up 
clearly  from  across  the  strait,  but  the  fires  would 
not  shine  in  the  sunlight.  He  stood  looking  for 
a  time,  and  then  broke  forth  into  a  long-drawn 
call.  To  his  astonishment  an  answering  note 
came  sounding  over  the  water.  He  repeated  his 
cry  and  listened.  From  far  away  in  the  sun 
shine  a  weird  cry  was  wafted  across  the  sea.  It 
thrilled  him.  He  was  not  afraid,  for  the  cry  was 
[111] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

one  of  yearning,  and  he  wanted  companionship. 
He  sat  and  waited  until  he  saw  a  small  object 
on  the  rise  of  a  swell.  It  came  nearer,  and  then 
he  saw  it  was  one  of  his  own  race,  and  dived  into 
the  sea  and  went  to  meet  the  stranger. 

How  smooth  was  the  newcomer's  coat  and  how 
white  the  breast!  He  looked  the  female  over 
critically?  and  a  strange  feeling  of  companion 
ship  pervaded  his  being.  Then  he  went  toward 
her  and  greeted  her,  sidling  up  and  rubbing  his 
head  against  her  soft  neck  and  swimming  around 
her  in  circles.  The  sun  shone  brightly  and  the 
air  was  warm.  The  very  joy  of  life  was  in  him, 
and  he  stretched  forth  his  head  and  called  and 
called  to  the  ledges  and  reefs,  sea  and  sky,  to 
bear  witness  that  he  would  no  longer  live  alone, 
but  would  thenceforth  take  the  beautiful 
stranger  with  him  and  protect  her.  He  climbed 
upon  the  ledge,  she  following,  and,  proud  as  a 
peacock,  strutted  back  and  forth  in  his  enjoy 
ment  of  her  good  will  and  comradeship. 

They  strayed  about  the  rocks  and  swam  in  the 
[112] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

sheltered  places  among  the  reefs  for  a  few  days, 
but  a  desire  to  go  into  the  great  world  to  the 
southward  and  make  a  snug  home  for  the  coming 
summer  began  to  make  him  restless.  The  warm 
sunshine  made  life  a  joy  in  spite  of  the  thick 
coating  of  fat  and  feathers,  and  the  high  cliffs  of 
Tierra  del  Fuego  seemed  to  offer  a  tempting 
abode  for  the  warmer  months.  His  pretty  com 
panion  shared  his  joy,  and  also  his  desire  to  go 
out  into  the  great  sea  to  the  southward  and  find 
a  suitable  place  on  some  rock  or  ledge  where 
they  could  make  a  home. 

They  started  off  shore  one  morning  and  swam 
side  by  side  for  many  leagues,  skirting  the  sheer 
and  dangerous  Horn  and  meeting  many  more 
couples  who,  like  themselves,  were  looking  for  a 
suitable  place  for  a  summer  sojourn  while  the 
bright  sun  should  last.  They  met  a  vast  crowd 
of  their  kind  making  an  inner  ledge  of  the  Rami 
rez  their  stopping-place,  and  there  they  halted. 
It  was  pleasant  to  be  sociable  when  united  to  a 
proud  companion,  and  they  went  among  the 
[113] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

throng  until  they  found  a  place  on  the  rocks 
where  they  could  climb  ashore  easily.  Our  friend 
led  the  way  up  the  slope  and  found  a  level  spot 
among  the  stones  where  his  mate  could  sit  and 
be  near  the  tide.  She  would  lay  her  eggs 
there,  and  he  would  take  care  that  she  fared 
well. 

Weeks  passed  and  two  white  shells  shone  in 
marked  contrast  to  the  surrounding  stones  and 
gravel.  His  mate  had  laid  two  beautiful  eggs, 
and  her  care  for  them  kept  him  busy  fishing  for 
two.  Yet  he  was  very  happy.  He  would  make 
short  trips  to  the  outlying  reef  and  seize  a  fish. 
Then  he  would  hurry  home  with  it,  and  together 
they  would  eat  it  while  his  mate  sat  calmly  upon 
the  eggs,  keeping  them  warm  and  waiting  for 
the  first  "  peep  "  to  show  the  entrance  into  this 
world  of  her  firstborn.  All  about,  the  other 
couples  had  their  nests,  consisting  only  of  the 
bare  stones,  for  there  was  no  drift  or  weed  out 
there  to  use,  and  they  sat  in  great  numbers  close 
enough  to  call  to  each  other  in  case  a  marauding 
[114] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

albatross  or  mollemokc  should  come  in  from  the 
sea  and  try  to  steal  eggs. 

Day  after  day  he  fished  and  brought  his  mate 
the  spoils,  often  sitting  on  the  eggs  himself  while 
she  took  a  plunge  into  the  cold  water  for  exer 
cise  and  change.  He  was  satisfied  and  the  world 
was  bright  with  the  joy  of  life. 

One  day  his  mate  waddled  quickly  from  the 
nest.  Where  before  there  had  been  two  shining 
white  eggs,  two  little  yellow  puff-balls  lay  on  the 
stones,  and  they  made  a  noise  that  showed  him 
his  offspring  were  strong  and  healthy  young 
ones.  He  strutted  up  and  down  the  ledge,  proud 
and  straight,  while  his  mate  gave  forth  cries  of 
satisfaction  and  nestled  down  again  to  give  the 
delicate  little  ones  shelter.  He  almost  forgot  to 
go  fishing,  and  only  a  call  from  his  patient  mate 
recalled  him  to  the  fact  that  she  must  be  fed. 
He  stepped  down  the  rocks,  and,  as  he  dived  into 
the  sea,  cried  aloud  for  joy. 

Out  near  the  Ramirez  the  fish  were  playing  in 
the  sunshine.  He  made  his  way  thither,  his 
[115] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

breast  high  with  the  happiness  of  his  existence. 
Other  fowl  were  there  fishing.  He  joined  them, 
but  gave  no  heed  to  a  long  object  that  came 
slowly  over  the  water  from  the  land  of  fire.  It 
headed  toward  the  cliffs  where  the  sea  fowl  dwelt, 
and  two  half-naked  savages  propelled  it  with 
paddles.  They  were  hunting  for  eggs,  and  the 
rocks  offered  a  tempting  place  to  land,  for  the 
great  crowd  of  birds  told  plainly  of  the  summer 
breeding-place.  They  ran  the  canoe  into  a  shel 
tered  spot  among  the  rocks  where  the  heave  of 
the  sea  was  slight,  and  then  sprang  ashore.  Up 
they  climbed  and  stood  upon  the  level  where  the 
penguin  females  sat  and  called  wildly  for  their 
mates. 

A  savage  stooped  and  began  gathering  eggs, 
pushing  away  the  birds  or  knocking  them  on  the 
head  with  a  stick,  when,  with  their  sharp  beaks, 
they  protested  against  the  robbery.  He  was  a 
horribly  filthy  fellow,  and  his  ugly  body  was 
partly  covered  with  skins  of  birds  and  sealskin. 
He  noticed  a  female  sitting  close,  calling  to  our 
[116] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

penguin  for  help,  and  the  bird  seemed  to  be  very 
fine  and  large,  with  a  good  skin.  He  made  a 
pass  with  his  club  and  smote  her  on  the  head. 
She  struggled  desperately  to  get  away,  but  could 
riot.  The  blow  partly  stunned  her.  The  little 
ones  scurried  off  as  she  rose,  and  the  savage  saw 
there  were  no  eggs  to  be  had  from  her.  But  he 
would  have  her  skin  anyway,  so,  with  a  furious 
stroke  of  his  weapon,  he  knocked  her  lifeless  at 
his  feet.  Then  he  picked  her  up  and  went  on. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  the  male  came  back 
from  fishing.  He  climbed  the  cliffs  and  looked 
about  him.  His  mate  and  young  were  missing, 
and  he  sent  forth  his  deep,  sonorous  cry.  But 
it  was  not  answered.  Other  birds  took  it  up, 
but  there  was  no  answering  call  from  the  mate, 
and  the  little  dark  speck  that  rose  and  fell  upon 
the  heave  of  the  swell  away  in  toward  the  shore 
of  Tierra  del  Fuego  gave  no  token  of  her  fate. 

All  night  he  wandered  over  the  rocks,  his  wild 
note  of  calling  sounding  far  out  to  sea.  In  the 
morning  he  stood  once  more  upon  the  spot  where, 
[117] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

a  few  days  before,  the  mate  of  his  bosom  sat 
proudly  upon  the  white  eggs.  The  empty  shells 
were  all  that  were  left.  He  stood  gazing  out 
to  sea,  and  then  his  instinct  told  him  he  would 
see  his  family  no  more.  He  gave  one  long-drawn 
cry,  plunged  into  the  sea,  and  was  gone.  The 
great  west  wind  came  roaring  over  the  sea  before 
the  sun  set,  and  before  it  he  held  his  way.  He 
would  go  far  away  from  the  scene  of  his  sum 
mer's  life.  The  vast  ocean  would  be  his  home, 
and  the  memories  of  the  ledge  be  a  thing  of  the 
past. 

For  many  days  the  penguin  roamed  over  the 
huge  rolling  hills  of  water.  The  vastness  of  the 
ocean  and  its  grandeur  soothed  him,  though  he 
still  called  out  at  intervals  when  the  sadness  of 
his  life  was  strong  upon  him.  Then  came  a  day 
when  sea  and  sky  seemed  to  blend  in  one  wild 
whirl,  and  a  hurricane  from  the  high,  ragged 
hills  of  Patagonia  swept  the  Antarctic  Drift. 
Away  he  went  before  it,  and  the  wildness  of  it 
was  joy,  the  deepening  roar  of  the  wind  and 
[118] 


T  H  K     CAPE     H  O  R  N  E  R  S 

crash  of  Cape  combers  making  music  for  his 
spirit.  He  headed  for  the  middle  of  the  current 
between  the  land  where  the  Pacific  flows  through 
and  meets  the  western  ocean,  the  stretch  of  sea 
that  reaches  away  past  the  South  Shetlands  to 
the  south  pole. 

How  wild  and  lonely  was  the  storm-swept  sea ! 
Great  hills  of  rolling  water,  fifty  feet  in  height, 
with  stately  and  majestic  rush,  passed  to  the  east 
ward,  their  tops  crowned  with  huge  white  comb 
ing  crests  and  their  sides  streaked  and  flecked 
with  long  stripes  of  white  foam.  Above,  the 
dull  banks  of  hurtling  vapor  flew  wildly  away  to 
somewhere  in  the  distance,  far  beyond  the  reach 
of  vision.  It  was  more  comfortable  beneath  the 
surface  than  above  it,  and  our  penguin  drove 
headlong  before  the  sea  two  fathoms  below  the 
foam,  only  coming  up  once  in  a  while  to  breathe. 
On  and  on  he  drove  for  hours,  until  hunger 
warned  him  to  keep  a  lookout  for  fish,  as  he  occa 
sionally  came  up  for  air,  and  to  see  if  there  were 
signs  of  the  oily  surface  denizens  showing  in  the 
[119] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

sweep  of  that  great,  lonely  sea.  Suddenly  an 
object  attracted  his  attention.  -It  was  a  mere 
speck  on  the  storm-torn  horizon,  but  he  knew 
it  must  be  of  considerable  size.  It  was  different 
from  anything  he  had  ever  before  seen,  for  above 
it  three  long,  tapering  sticks  stood  upward,  and 
upon  the  middle  one  a  strip  of  white,  like  the 
wing  of  an  albatross,  caught  the  weight  of  the 
wild  west  wind.  He  was  interested,  and  drove 
along  toward  it  until  the  object  loomed  high 
above  him,  and  the  deep  snore  of  the  gale 
sounded  like  a  heavy  roaring  comber  tearing 
through  the  many  lines  of  the  rigging  and  under 
the  strip  of  white  canvas.  The  great  thing 
would  rise  upon  the  crest  of  a  giant  wave  and 
fling  its  long,  pointed  end  high  into  the  gale, 
the  rushing  sea  striking  it  and  smashing  over  in 
a  white  smother  like  the  surge  on  the  rocks. 
Then  down  it  would  swing  slowly  until  it  would 
reach  the  hollow  between  the  moving  hills,  and 
the  penguin  could  see  upon  its  body,  its  tall  sticks 
rolling  to  windward  and  the  roar  of  the  gale 
[  120] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

deepening  into  a  thunderous,  rushing  sound, 
until  the  advancing  sea  would  lift  it  again  and 
roll  it  toward  the  lee.  The  sight  of  the  huge 
monster  wallowing  about,  hardly  making  the 
slightest  way  through  the  water,  interested  the 
penguin.  It  seemed  like  a  floating  rock  with 
out  life,  and  he  felt  a  curiosity  to  know  if  it  were 
alive.  He  rose  partly  from  the  sea  and  uttered 
a  long-drawn,  hoarse  call  that  floated  down  the 
gale  and  swept  over  the  great  hulk.  Nothing 
happened,  and  he  repeated  the  call, — a  far- 
reaching,  wild,  deep,  resonant  cry. 

But  the  great  ship  swung  along  slowly,  as  be 
fore,  and  he  dived  under  her  to  see  what  was 
below. 

In  the  forecastle  the  dim  light  of  the  summer 
day  made  a  dismal  and  cheerless  scene.  The 
watch  below  had  turned  in,  all  standing,  their 
wet  clothes  wrapped  about  them  in  their  "  pews," 
or  bunks,  making  a  vapor  in  the  cold  air 
through  which  the  light  of  the  swinging  lamp 
shone  dimly.  The  gray  light  from  outside  fil- 
[121] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

tered  in  at  the  side  ports  and  spoke  of  the  cold, 
hard  day  on  deck.  Once  in  a  while  some  shiver 
ing  wretch  would  turn  in  his  poultice  of  soaking 
flannel  and  get  a  fresh  piece  of  icy-cold  cloth 
against  his  skin  that  would  call  forth  maledic 
tions  on  the  Horn,  the  weather,  and  the  hove-to 
ship.  In  a  corner  of  the  forecastle  a  pile  of 
soaking  clothes  moved,  and  a  moan  sounded  above 
the  noise  without. 

"  Stow  it,  Sammy ;  you'll  be  all  right  soon, 
my  boy,"  said  a  voice  in  a  bunk  above  him. 

"  Oh,  but  it's  so  cold,  Tom,"  whispered  the 
pile  of  clothes.  "  I  can't  last  much  longer,  and 
they  might  let  me  die  warm,  at  least." 

"  What's  the  little  man  sayin'?  "  asked  a  deep 
voice  opposite.  "  Wants  to  die  warm,  does  he? 
Say,  Sammy,  me  son,  }Tou'll  be  warm  mighty 
soon  after  you're  dead ;  why  in  thunder  don't  you 
put  up  with  a  bit  o'  cold  till  then,  boy?  " 

"  You're  a  blamed  brute,  bos'n,"  said  the  first 
speaker,  "  an'  if  I  wa'n't  mighty  well  used  up 
I'd  soak  you  a  good  whanging  for  that.  Yer 
[  122] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

know  the  poor  boy's  sick  wid  scurvy,  an'  aint 
likely  to  pull  through." 

"  I'll  ware  ye  out  when  th'  watch  is  called,  yer 
preacher,"  said  the  bos'n  confidently.  "  Talk 
away,  for  you'll  only  get  it  all  the  worse  when 
I  shucks  my  dunnage."  Then,  as  if  the  matter 
were  settled,  he  snugged  up  in  his  soaking  bunk 
and  hove  down  to  warm  a  piece  of  his  steaming 
covering  until  it  should  cease  to  send  a  chill 
through  his  big  frame  and  he  could  wander  into 
dreamland. 

The  shivering  form  of  the  boy  in  the  corner 
moved  again,  and  he  groaned  in  agony.  It  was 
useless  for  him  to  try  to  sleep  with  his  limbs 
swollen  and  his  flesh  almost  bursting  with  the 
loathsome  disease.  The  pile  of  wet  clothes  upon 
him  could  not  keep  him  warm,  and  each  shiver 
sent  agony  through  him.  He  would  die  unless 
he  could  get  relief  soon,  and  there  the  ship  was 
off  the  Horn  in  June,  the  beginning  of  winter, 
without  one  chance  in  fifty  of  making  port  in  less 
than  two  months. 

[  123] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

In  his  half-delirious  state  he  lived  many  of 
his  early  schooldays  again,  and  then  followed 
thoughts  of  those  who  were  nearest  to  him.  He 
must  die.  His  grave  must  be  in  that  great,  dark 
void  beneath.  Oh,  the  loneliness  of  that  great 
ocean !  What  would  it  be  like  far  below  in  the 
blackness  of  the  vast  deep,  beyond  the  heave  of 
the  great  sea,  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  great 
world  of  silence?  The  horror  of  it  caused  him 
to  groan.  Would  anyone  punish  the  cruel  ship 
owners  and  captain  who  had  so  foully  murdered 
him  with  the  cheap  and  filthy  food  ?  What  would 
anyone  care  after  he  had  gone?  What  would 
he  care,  away  down  in  that  everlasting  blackness, 
where  no  one  would  ever  see  him  again?  He  lay 
upon  his  back  and  stared  with  red  and  swollen 
eyes  at  the  bunk  above  him  where  Tom,  the  quar 
termaster,  snored  loud  enough  to  be  heard  above 
the  dull,  thunderous  roar  overhead.  In  another 
hour  the  watch  must  turn  out,  but  they  would 
let  him  lie  by ;  him,  a  dying  ship's-boy.  But 
would  he  die  outright  ?  Would  his  soul  live  down 
[  124] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

there  in  that  awful  blackness,  where  they  must 
soon  heave  his  body?  He  had  heard  of  sailors' 
spirits  haunting  ships.  Could  his  do  so?  Was 
there  a  hideous  devil  below  waiting  for  him? 
He  had  heard  there  was.  Far  down  in  the  bot 
tomless  abyss  some  monster  might  await  him. 
He  gazed  with  staring  eyes  at  the  dim  lamp,  and 
longed  for  a  little  light  and  sunshine  to  relieve 
the  terrible  gloom  of  the  Antarctic  winter  day. 

Then  there  broke  upon  his  ears  a  wild,  sono 
rous,  deep-drawn  cry  sounding  over  the  storm- 
swept  sea.  It  was  not  human.  What  was  it? 
Was  it  for  him?  The  thought  made  him  sick 
with  terror.  He  groaned  aloud,  and  Tom  turned 
over  in  his  wet  clothes  until  the  sudden  chill  of 
moving  from  the  one  steaming  place  made  him 
grumble  audibly. 

"  What  was  it,  Tom  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  What  ?  "  growled  the  sailor   surlily. 

"  There —      "  and  the  cry  was  repeated. 

Tom  growled  a  little  and  then  rolled  snug 
again.  Suddenly  he  started  up.  "  A  man 
[125] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

might  as  well  freeze  to  death  on  deck  as  in  this 
unholy  frozen  hole,"  he  said.  Then  he  climbed 
stiffly  down  from  his  bunk,  clapped  his  sou'wester 
on  his  head,  and,  tying  the  flaps  snug  under  his 
chin,  he  slid  back  the  forecastle  door  with  a  bang, 
and  landed  on  the  main  deck. 

There  he  stood  a  minute  watching  the  great 
fabric  straining  under  her  lower  maintopsail, 
hove  to  in  that  sea  that  the  Cape  Homer  knows 
so  well  and  dreads  so  much.  In  the  waist,  the 
foam  on  deck  told  of  a  flood  of  icy  water  that 
poured  again  and  again  over  the  topgallant  rail 
and  crashed  like  a  Niagara  upon  the  deck  planks, 
rushing  to  leeward  through  the  ports  in  the  bul 
warks  and  carrying  everything  movable  along 
with  it. 

He  watched  his  chance,  and  dodged  around  the 
corner  of  the  deck  house,  where  the  port  watch 
huddled  to  keep  clear  of  the  wind  and  the 
sea. 

"  Merry  Fourth  o'  July  to  ye,"  bawled  a  man 
of  the  watch,  as  he  came  among  them. 
[126] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

"  What's  the  matter?  Can't  ye  find  enough 
work  to  do  whin  yer  turn  comes  ?  "  asked  another. 

"Where's  the  whale-iron?"  asked  Tom,  of 
Chips,  who  had  come  out  of  his  room  to  get  a 
look  around. 

The  carpenter  looked  at  him  queerly.  "  What 
d'ye  want  wid  it?  "  he  asked. 

"Listen!"  said  Tom. 

Then  the  cry  of  the  sea  fowl  sounded  again. 

"  Penguin?  "  said  Chips. 

"  Turkey,"  said  Tom,  with  a  smile.  "  If  we 
can  get  the  steward  to  give  us  a  bit  o'  salt  pork 
fat  we  can  git  him,  or  I'm  a  sogcr." 

He  was  an  old  whaleman,  and  the  carpenter 
hesitated  no  longer.  He  led  the  way  into  his 
room  in  the  forward  house  where  he  kept  his 
tools,  and  the  iron  was  brought  forth.  A  word 
to  the  mate  on  watch,  and  the  sailor  was  fast  in 
the  lee  forerigging,  standing  upon  the  shear- 
pole,  with  the  iron  ready  to  heave.  The  fat  was 
tossed  over  the  side,  and  he  waited. 

In  the  dark,  cold  hole  of  the  forecastle  the 
[  127] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

drawn  lips  of  the  sick  boy  were  parted,  showing 
his  blue  and  swollen  gums.  He  was  grinning 
horribly.  "  Take  him  away.  Oh,  take  him 
away !  "  he  was  moaning.  "  Hear  him  a-callin' 
me?  Don't  let  him  get  me,  Tom;  take  him 
away,  take  him  away !  It's  the  devil  callin' 
me!" 

All  the  fear  and  anguish  that  can  burn 
through  a  disordered  brain  was  upon  the  little 
fellow,  and  the  dismal  cry  lent  a  reality  to  his 
delirious  thoughts.  Suddenly  he  half  rose  in 
his  bunk,  and  then  the  latent  spark  of  manhood, 
which  was  developing  even  in  spite  of  his  suffer 
ings,  came  to  his  aid.  He  thought  of  the  Great 
Power  which  ruled  his  fate,  and  shook  himself 
into  full  consciousness,  glancing  up  at  the  aper 
ture  through  which  the  dim  light  filtered  as  if 
he  half  expected  to  see  a  vision  that  would  give 
him  strength.  Then  he  felt  that  he  would  face 
the  end  calmly,  and  meet  whatever  was  in  store 
as  a  man  should.  Perhaps  the  captain  and 
owners  could  not  help  matters,  after  all.  He 
[  128  ] 


THE     CAPE    HORNERS 

could  hear  the  song  of  the  gale  more  distinctly, 
and  once  the  tramp  of  the  men  as  they  tailed 
onto  the  maintopsail  brace.  They  were  jam 
ming  the  yard  hard  on  the  backstay,  and  there 
was  no  show  of  a  slant  yet.  He  must  lie  quiet 
and  wait,  listening  to  the  weird  cry  that  caused 
him  to  shiver  and  see  fantastic  figures  upon  the 
carlincs  above  his  head. 

Out  on  the  great,  high-rolling  sea,  the  penguin 
had  scented  a  peculiar  substance.  He  drew 
nearer  the  great  fabric  that  rolled  and  swung 
so  loggily  on  the  sea.  He  sent  forth  a  wild  cry, 
and  drove  headlong  after  a  piece  of  white  matter 
that  floated  in  the  foam  of  the  side  wash.  He 
seized  it  and  swallowed  it.  Then  he  came  closer. 

A  form  stood  in  the  rigging  above  him,  mo 
tionless,  as  if  made  of  wood,  and  a  long,  pointed 
thing  was  balanced  in  the  air.  A  piece  of  fat 
showed  right  beneath,  and  he  went  for  it,  in  spite 
of  the  feeling  of  dread  that  came  upon  him.  He 
was  hungry,  and  would  snatch  it  and  then  get 
away.  He  reached  it,  and  at  that  instant  some- 
[129] 


THE    S  Til  I  I'LL    OF    THE     SEA 
thing  struck  him  in  the  back,  carrying  him  be 
neath  the  surface.      Then  his  life  went  out. 

"  A  fine  turkey,  an'  that's  a  fact,"  said  Chips, 
a  moment  later.  "  Get  something  to  put  him 
in,  quick;  the  lad  will  have  a  stew,  fer  sure. 
'Twill  well-nigh  cure  him,  and,  anyways,  it  '11 
keep  him  a-goin'  until  we  speak  a  wessel  fer  fresh 
grub." 

The  second  mate  came  forward. 

"  Eight  bells,  ye  starbowlines,"  he  bawled  into 
the  forecastle ;  "  turn  out,  or  I'll  be  right  in  there 
wid  ye !  One  o'  ye  bring  Sammy's  mess  things. 
He's  got  turkey  fer  dinner.  Come,  wake  up, 
sonny !  There  aint  no  devil  or  nothin'  a-chasin' 
ye.  Ye'll  be  all  right  in  a  week  o'  Sundays. 
Bring  that  beef  juice  right  in  here,  Chips.  Hold 
his  head,  Tom, — there, — make  him  drink  it  while 
it's  hot." 

In  a  little  while  the  hot  broth  made  from  the 

bird's  flesh  warmed  the  boy's  body,  and  his  mind 

was    clear    again.     The    forecastle    was    empty, 

and  the  wild  cry  he  had  heard  no  longer  sounded 

[  130  ] 


THE     CAPE     HORNERS 

above  the  gale.  He  felt  stronger,  and  his  terror 
had  vanished.  A  feeling  of  ease  grew  within  his 
poisoned  body.  A  gleam  of  faint  sunlight  came 
through  the  open  door,  and  as  he  looked  he  knew 
that  the  God  he  felt  had  given  him  strength  had 
been  kind.  He  knew  no  prayer,  or  word  of 
thanks,  but  his  spirit  was  warm  with  gratitude. 
He  smiled  his  thanks  at  his  shipmates,  and  closed 
his  eyes.  Then  he  slept. 

A  crowd  of  swearing  and  jostling  men  awak 
ened  him  as  they  came  tumbling  below  some 
hours  afterwards. 

"  Grub  ahoy !  "  bawled  one.  Then  the  mess- 
kid  came  in  steaming  from  the  galley,  and  upon 
it  was  a  large  fowl. 

"  Hi,  yi,  turkey,  ahoy !  Turkey,  'e  was  a 
good  old  man  !  "  cried  a  Swede. 

"  An'  divil  a  bit  will  anyone  but  th'  bye  git," 
said  the  big  bos'n.  "  It's  sorry  I  am,  Thomas, 
me  dear,  that  I  have  tew  whang  ye  afther  yer 
noble  raid  on  ther  poulthry." 

[131] 


jQGGERrBEAD 


THE  LOGGERHEAD 

HE  was  probably  named  by  sailors  be 
cause  of  his  fancied  resemblance  to  a 
certain  piece  of  ship's  gear,  but  the 
Conchs  of  the  Bahama  Bank  believed  he  deserved 
his  name  in  its  true  meaning,  for  he  was  certainly 
the  most  stupid  fellow  on  the  reef.  Those  who 
knew  him  and  watched  him  crawl  up  the  glisten 
ing  white  coral  sand  that  glared  in  the  heat  of 
the  torrid  sunshine  never  took  the  trouble  to 
harm  him,  although  the  law  of  the  reef  is  very 
much  like  it  is  elsewhere.  The  strongest  or 
quickest-witted  only  might  endure. 

But  the  conch  who  first  turned  him,  or  rather 
attempted  to  turn  him,  found  that  his  dead 
weight  of  six  hundred  pounds  of  shell  and 
leather-like  beef  was  not  worth  the  trouble. 
Turtles  of  more  manageable  size  were  plentiful, 
[135] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

and  there  was  no  use  of  straining  one's  self  try 
ing  to  upset  such  a  monster.  He  drew  his  knife 
to  kill,  but  the  stupid  one  had  sense  enough  to 
withdraw  his  head  within  the  wall  of  bony  shell, 
and  the  black  man  called  maledictions  upon  him 
for  turning  the  edge  of  his  weapon.  Then  he 
smote  him  over  the  back  with  his  turning  stave 
and  called  him  a  worthless  one  because  he  refused 
to  contribute  himself  to  the  Conch's  larder,  and 
passed  on. 

The  loggerhead  paid  small  heed  to  the  man's 
behavior.  The  bright  sunshine  was  warming 
the  white  sands,  and  the  blue  water  of  the  Gulf 
Stream  was  rippling  past  the  cay,  while  above 
him  the  beautiful  little  lumpy  clouds,  bunches 
of  pure  white  vapor,  were  floating  away  to  the 
southward.  It  was  enough  to  live  without 
bothering  with  those  who  fished  upon  the  waters 
of  the  reef  or  the  great  swarm  of  creatures  who 
inhabited  the  clear  depths.  Everywhere  the  sea 
denizens  seemed  to  be  in  continual  tumult,  some 
trying  to  build  homes  among  the  sponges  and 
[136] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

growths  of  the  coral  banks,  and  others  hurrying 
to  and  fro  through  the  clear  blue  liquid  with  no 
especial  purpose  he  could  fathom.  Then  there 
were  the  destroyers  who  came  and  went  with  a 
rush,  chasing  the  smaller  to  shelter  and  splash 
ing  a  great  deal  of  water  in  their  efforts  to  cap 
ture  those  weaker  than  themselves. 

The  loggerhead  poked  forth  his  nose  and 
gazed  about  him,  wondering  at  the  beauty  of  the 
world,  and  gave  the  struggling  swarms  but  a 
passing  glance.  Then  he  laboriously  hauled 
himself  up  the  warming  sands  until  he  reached 
high-water  mark. 

The  Conch  had  walked  far  away  down  the 
cay  where  his  boat  was  hauled  up.  His  com 
panion  sat  in  the  stern-sheets  and  lazily  bailed 
the  water  from  her.  When  he  had  finished,  the 
two  men  shoved  her  off  and  hoisted  a  small  sail. 
Then  swinging  her  bow  around  before  the  breeze, 
they  headed  away  toward  the  distant  line  of 
white  which  showed  to  the  eastward  where  a 
larger  cay  of  the  Bank  rose  from  the  sea. 
[137] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

After  they  had  gone  the  loggerhead  watched 
the  rippling  water  along  the  shore.  Soon  the 
head  of  a  huge  turtle  appeared,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  great  form  of  another  like  himself 
hauled  slowly  and  lazily  up  the  beach. 

Before  dark  several  followers  had  hauled  up 
to  high-water  mark.  On  the  cay  was  soft  fine 
sand  of  a  nature  not  unlike  that  of  more  northern 
beaches,  and  this  had  banked  above  the  coral  to 
a  depth  of  three  or  more  feet. 

With  flippers  of  horny  hardness  and  gigantic 
power  the  females  began  to  cut  their  way  down. 
They  scooped  and  scooped  until  they  had  holes 
at  least  two  feet  deep  nicely  rounded  and  firmly 
packed  on  the  sides  as  though  they  were 
cemented.  Then  they  dropped  slowly  egg  after 
egg  into  the  little  pits  until  a  hundred  or  more 
had  packed  themselves  into  the  receptacles. 
The  shells  of  the  eggs  were  soft  like  leather,  and 
each  egg  had  a  small  dent  which  showed  it  was 
fresh.  Then  as  the  night  wore  on  they  softly 
covered  the  pits  with  sand  and  carefully 
[138] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

smoothed  them  over  until  not  the  slightest  trace 
of  any  disturbance  of  the  surface  showed.  It 
was  nice  work,  for  the  sand  was  soft,  and  the 
signs  of  digging  were  easily  made,  but  hard 
to  conceal,  and  it  was  nearly  dawn  before  the 
females  were  satisfied  with  their  efforts.  Then 
they  slipped  slowly  down  the  sand  into  the  sea 
and  disappeared  to  return  no  more.  Their  task 
was  done. 

The  huge  loggerhead  who  had  led  the  way  up 
the  beach  watched  the  departing  turtles  as  they 
went  to  sea.  The  sound  of  the  murmuring  ocean 
was  in  the  morning  air,  the  song  of  the  south 
sea  awakening  the  day  as  the  soft  wind  sighed 
over  heaving  swell  and  rippled  the  beautiful 
wavelets  until  they  rolled  into  little  combers  and 
flashed  white  in  the  sunshine.  All  about  him  was 
the  light  of  the  tropic  dawn.  The  sweet  breath 
of  the  trade  wind  fanned  his  iron-hard  head  and 
he  opened  his  eyes  lazily  to  watch  the  sunrise. 
It  was  well.  The  beauty  of  the  world  attracted 
him. 

[139] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

Far  away  on  the  horizon  the  spurts  of  foam 
showed  the  beginning  of  the  strenuous  life  of  the 
destroyers.  He  watched  them  lazily  and  won 
dered  at  their  fierceness,  their  uselessness  of 
purpose.  Then  he  saw  a  form  coming  down  the 
beach  and  looked  eastward  where  the  boat  of  the 
Conchs  had  made  the  shore  again. 

The  black  man  went  slowly  along  the  beach 
prodding  the  sand  at  high-water  mark  wherever 
he  saw  the  tracks  of  turtles.  He  had  a  long, 
thin  piece  of  iron  with  a  sharp  end  which  he 
drove  into  the  sand  and  withdrew  again,  looking 
at  the  end  to  see  if  there  was  any  sign  of  egg- 
yolk  adhering  to  it.  Once  he  struck  a  place  where 
a  turtle  had  scooped  out  a  nest,  and  the  dripping 
iron  caused  him  to  give  a  cry  to  his  companion 
in  the  boat.  Then  he  threw  down  a  sack  and 
dug  until  he  had  unearthed  the  eggs,  which  he 
transferred  quickly  to  the  bag,  and  picking  up 
his  iron  staff  he  went  along,  bending  down  to 
watch  the  tracks  more  closely. 

The  loggerhead  watched  him  out  of  the  cor- 
[  140] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

ner  of  his  eye  and  thought  of  the  turtle  who  had 
lost  her  eggs,  but  the  whole  thing  interested  him 
but  little  and  he  made  his  way  slowly  down  the 
sand  to  avoid  being  hit  over  the  head  with  the 
iron  rod  because  the  Conch  did  not  like  him. 

The  Conch  saw  him  as  he  gained  the  surf, 
but  he  knew  him,  and  shaking  his  staff  at  him  he 
went  along  searching  for  more  prizes. 

The  great  loggerhead  swam  easily  just  below 
the  surface  where  the  sunlight  filtered  down  and 
made  the  liquid  a  bright  blue.  He  had  no  object, 
and  held  his  course  across  the  Gulf  Stream, 
letting  himself  drift  with  the  current.  It  was 
well  to  live  and  the  uselessness  of  effort  was  more 
apparent  to  him  since  he  had  seen  the  Conch's 
work  on  the  cay  of  the  Bahama  Bank. 

The  warm  stream  was  rushing  silently  north 
ward  and  the  gentle  wind  caused  but  little  roll 
to  the  sea.  The  loggerhead  could  lie  upon  the 
surface  and  poke  his  head  out,  getting  a  glimpse 
of  the  eternal  rim  of  the  circle  which  had  no 
break.  But  he  cared  nothing  for  land,  and  the 
[141] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

sea  was  sparkling  and  blue.  The  sun  overhead 
sent  down  hot  rays  which  he  felt  through  his 
thick  armor  of  shell,  but  when  it  grew  too  warm 
he  cooled  himself  by  sinking  a  few  feet  below  the 
surface  for  several  minutes. 

Several  big  barnacles  which  had  attached 
themselves  to  his  underbody  made  navigation 
tiresome,  for  he  had  to  drag  them  through  the 
water  along  with  him,  but  it  was  too  much 
trouble  to  scrape  them  off.  He  had  seen  some  of 
his  fellows  do  this  on  the  rocks  of  the  Florida 
Reef,  but  it  was  laborious  work  and  he  preferred 
to  take  things  easy. 

Pie  was  not  an  old  turtle.  Some  of  his  fellows 
had  lived  for  several  centuries  and  were  old 
before  he  was  born.  But  he  had  grown  very 
large  since  the  day  he  first  saw  the  sun  shining 
over  the  reef  at  Roncador.  He  was  but  a  tiny 
little  fellow  then,  and  his  shell  was  so  soft  that  he 
felt  the  sun  burn  through  it.  His  leather-like 
skin  on  his  neck  was  tender  and  even  his  bony 
beak  could  hardly  cut  the  soft  Gulf  weed.  His 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

flippers  were  dark  and  soft  and  very  unlike  the 
huge  scaly  paddles  he  now  used  to  scull  himself 
along.  He  was  quite  rapid  in  his  movements 
then,  but  life  upon  the  tropical  sea  had  gradually 
had  the  effect  of  making  him  sluggish  and 
philosophical.  The  sunshine  was  all  he  cared 
for. 

He  had  no  trouble  getting  enough  to  eat  with 
out  fighting  for  it.  It  seemed  a  great  waste  of 
energy  to  be  eternally  chasing  other  and  weaker 
creatures,  and  now  he  had  drifted  instinctively 
back  to  the  habits  of  his  forefathers.  He  took 
things  very  coolly.  When  a  savage  shark  or 
albicore  made  a  strike  at  him  he  did  not  retaliate 
by  snapping  at  them  with  his  huge  beak  which 
would  now  slice  out  a  couple  of  pounds  of  wood 
from  a  floating  log  and  shear  through  anything 
living.  He  simply  hauled  in  his  paddles  and 
stump  of  a  tail  to  the  sheltering  safety  of  his 
armor  and  the  vigorous  fish  might  chop  all  day 
at  him  for  all  he  cared.  Their  teeth  might 
scratch  his  shell  a  little,  but  the  powerful  arch 
[143] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

of  his  back  made  it  impossible  to  crush  him  and  a 
few  scratches  upon  his  plates  would  not  injure 
him  in  any  way  whatever.  His  head  he  might 
draw  in  until  his  ugly  beak  and  steady  eyes 
looked  out  of  a  sort  of  cavern.  It  was  trifling 
with  sudden  death  to  come  within  the  radius  of 
a  foot  of  that  nose,  and  the  vigorous  fish  after 
tormenting  him  a  few  minutes  generally  gave 
him  a  shove  and  left  him  in  disgust. 

After  they  had  gone  away  he  would  slowly 
and  lazily  shove  out  his  paddles  again  and  pro 
ceed  to  scull  himself  leisurely  on  his  way,  his 
small,  dull  mind  undisturbed  at  the  affront. 
Such  creatures  were  a  nuisance  to  him,  but  they 
were  in  existence  and  it  was  not  for  him  to  worry 
because  they  were.  He  would  go  along  in  the 
sunshine  and  soft  air  in  his  easy  way,  and  when 
these  no  longer  attracted  him  he  would  draw  in 
his  head,  upset  himself,  then,  thrusting  it  for 
ward  again,  go  sculling  for  the  cool  depths  where 
he  would  spend  many  hours  among  the  beautiful 
marine  growths  fathoms  below  the  surface  upon 
[  144] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

the  coral  reef,  and  where  the  faint  light  of  the 
sun  filtering  down  made  objects  dim  and  un 
certain.  All  was  quiet  here,  and  it  was  the  ideal 
place  for  repose. 

It  had  taken  many  years  of  wandering  to  get 
the  loggerhead  as  far  north  as  the  Bahama 
Bank.  He  had  let  himself  drift  along,  and 
here  he  was  at  last  in  the  core  of  the  great 
Florida  Stream,  going  to  the  northward  at  a  rate 
which  would  have  astonished  him  very  much  had 
he  known  its  velocity.  It  is  doubtful  even  if  he 
had  known  it  that  he  would  have  made  any 
effort  to  either  stem  it  or  get  clear,  for  he  now 
had  the  reposeful  habit  strong  in  his  nature,  and 
he  took  things  as  they  came.  Nothing  had  as 
yet  caused  him  the  slightest  harm,  and  there  was 
no  reason  to  get  excited  at  anything.  Life  was 
pleasant.  Effort  was  useless. 

He  would  float  along  upon  the  bright  blue 

surface  of  the  warm  stream  and  poke  his  head  up 

into  the  clear  sweet  air  and  sunshine.     It  was 

enough.     The  life  of  albicore  or  dolphin  was 

[  145] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

not  for  him.  Theirs  was  all  effort,  savage 
strife,  and  a  sudden  death.  He  might  lie  and 
ponder  at  their  lot  with  his  head  slightly  raised 
and  his  paddles  at  rest,  but  while  he  might  notice 
them  in  their  desperate  play  he  had  a  supreme 
contempt  for  them  all.  He  had  already  lived  as 
long  as  three  generations  of  them,  and  they  had 
done  nothing  save  fight  and  slay. 

As  he  floated  away  he  soon  found  many  of  his 
old  acquaintances  were  disappearing.  The 
savage  amber- jack  and  fat  sunfish  would  pass 
him  now  and  then,  but  they  were  always  heading 
south.  Only  his  companions,  the  flying  fish, 
seemed  to  care  as  little  as  he  for  their  where 
abouts.  The  flying  fish  were  not  afraid  of  him, 
and  they  were  his  friends.  He  held  them  in 
high  disdain  for  their  cowardice,  for  they  were 
always  timorous  and  ready  for  flight  at  the 
first  sign  of  an  approaching  fish,  and  it  was 
more  contempt  than  pity  he  had  for  those  who 
were  caught.  The  more  fortunate  he  would 
watch  with  languid  interest. 
[146] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

The  lives  of  all  were  so  full  of  strife  they 
were  eminently  unsuccessful  from  his  point  of 
view,  and  it  was  only  because  the  little  flyers  were 
so  pretty  when  they  whirled  upward  from  the 
blue  water  and  with  whirring  wings  sailed  away, 
that  he  liked  them  better  than  the  rest.  They 
always  knew  where  the  best  Gulf  weed  was  to  be 
had  and  never  disputed  his  claim  to  the  largest 
share  of  any  that  he  found.  It  was  manifest  to 
him  that  he  was  a  superior  being,  quite  above  the 
rest  of  his  fellows,  and  with  the  instinctive  feel 
ing  common  to  all  animals,  he  felt  that  this 
superiority  was  a  special  gift  from  the  great 
power  which  he  felt  ruled  his  destiny.  His  dull 
brain  worked  slowly.  There  was  no  quickening 
of  his  sluggish  circulation  to  brighten  his 
wits. 

It  was  quite  a  fortnight  after  leaving  the 
Bahama  Bank  that  he  began  to  notice  that  the 
water  about  him  was  not  quite  so  blue  as  before 
and  that  there  was  a  chill  in  it  which  he  did  not 
like.  It  stirred  him  to  action  and  he  began 
[147] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

paddling  westward  after  the  setting  sun.  The 
next  day  a  low  shore  appeared  on  the  horizon 
with  a  bright  sand  beach  shining  like  a  white 
band  between  the  dark  line  of  hammock  and  the 
sparkling  sea.  He  headed  for  it,  thinking  to 
haul  out  a  little  while  and  sun  himself  upon  the 
hot  beach,  for  the  air  was  much  cooler  than  what 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  and  the  Gulf  weed 
was  scarce. 

In  spite  of  his  unwieldy  size  the  loggerhead 
was  not  slow  when  he  once  started  to  use  his  great 
paddles.  He  kept  up  a  steady  stroke  with  all 
four,  his  large  front  ones  sculling  him  along  like 
two  oar-blades,  bending  at  each  return,  and  his 
smaller  hind  ones  shoving  him  ahead  with  quick, 
jerky  strokes.  His  head  was  thrust  forward, 
and  he  went  along  a  few  feet  below  the  surface 
like  a  great  oval  shadowy  shape. 

In  a  little  while  he  drew  near  the  beach.     It 

was  a  long  sand-spit  stretching  out  to  sea,  upon 

which  the  long  roll  of  the  Atlantic  swell  fell  with 

a  deep,  sullen  roar.     Beyond  the  spit  was  a  quiet 

[148] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

lagoon,  and  there  was  an  opening  through  the 
line  of  breakers. 

He  paddled  slowly  in,  keeping  clear  of  the 
surf,  poking  his  head  up  now  and  then  to  get  his 
bearings  correctly.  Upon  the  inner  end  of  the 
bar  he  saw  three  strange  forms.  They  were 
absurd-looking  creatures  with  long  legs  and  bills, 
their  heads  having  light  gray  penciled  feathers 
giving  them  the  appearance  of  being  bald,  as 
their  wings  and  breasts  were  dark.  Their  large 
eyes  were  watching  the  incoming  tide  as  it 
swirled  through  the  inlet,  and  when  they  saw  him 
they  set  up  a  vast  noise  of  protest,  scolding 
loudly  and  threatening  him.  He  felt  instinct- 
ivelv  that  these  birds  were  timid  creatures  in 

mf 

spite  of  their  fierce  threats,  and  a  sudden  move 
ment  toward  them  sent  them  shrieking  away  in 
terror.  This  amused  him,  and  he  went  in 
through  the  smooth  water  unmolested. 

Inside  the  lagoon  was  a  long  stretch  of  shoal 
water.      Sculling  along  close  to  the  bottom  so 
that  but  a  few  inches  were  between  him  and  the 
[149] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

hard  sand,  he  went  swiftly  up  the  sound.  A 
great  sand  shark  lay  in  front  of  him,  his  long 
body  barely  moving,  the  sunlight  playing  upon 
his  flanks  and  his  dorsal  fin  just  awash.  The 
loggerhead  gave  him  a  brush  with  his  paddle 
as  he  went  past  and  the  great  fish  shot  ahead  a 
full  fathom  with  the  touch.  He  was  not  used 
to  being  brushed  against,  and  it  startled  him. 
Then  he  turned  and  chopped  at  the  turtle,  but 
his  teeth  met  the  armor  of  shell  and  several 
broke  with  the  impact.  The  loggerhead  went 
steadily  on.  The  water  was  now  getting  warmer 
again  and  the  sunshine  made  it  very  bright,  for 
it  was  shoal  and  the  white  sand  reflected  the 
rays  from  the  bottom,  hurting  his  eyes  with  the 
glare. 

He  found  a  sloping  beach  and  hauled  lazily 
out  into  the  heat  of  a  cloudless  day. 

The  quiet  of  the  lagoon  was  attractive  to  the 

turtle.     He  spent  many  days  drifting  about  its 

shallow  depths  feeding  upon  the  drift-weed  and 

small  shell-fish  the  tide  drove  into  the  inlet.     He 

[150] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

was  well  content  to  He  upon  the  surface  and 
watch  the  shear-waters  go  sailing  past,  their 
beaks  skimming  the  smooth  sea,  the  tips  some 
times  cutting  like  a  knife  through  the  yielding 
medium,  ready  to  snatch  up  any  unwary  mullet 
or  small  fry  that  happened  upon  the  surface  in 
their  path.  Often  a  great  pelican  would  come  in 
from  the  sea  and  fish  for  a  few  hours  over  the 
schools  of  mullet  or  whiting  until  with  heavy 
pouch  and  tired  pinions  he  would  withdraw  to 
the  sand-spit  to  gorge  himself  with  the  tender 
morsels. 

The  loggerhead  was  amused  at  the  harried 
schools  of  fish  as  they  scurried  in  terror  for  a 
shelter.  He  felt  his  superiority  over  all  the 
other  denizens  of  the  lagoon,  and  the  poor  little 
creatures  hurrying  in  terror  from  the  destroyers 
filled  him  as  before  with  disdain. 

One  day  a  fishing  schooner  hove  to  off  the 

inlet.       Boats   were   lowered   and   a   long    seine 

placed  in  them.      The  net  was  very  strong  and 

its  leadline  so  heavy  it  took  eight  men  to  haul  it. 

M51  1 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

They  headed  slowly  in  for  the  inlet  and  lay  off 
the  entrance  for  some  time  waiting  for  the  tide 
to  favor  an  attempt  to  make  the  opening 
through  the  breakers.  They  headed  the  long 
rollers,  rowing  easily,  and  one  man  stood  in  the 
bow  of  the  leading  boat  watching  the  shoaling 
water,  ready  to  warn  the  helmsman  in  time  to 
prevent  getting  ashore. 

Soon  they  saw  the  way  clear  ahead  and  the 
rowers  put  some  strength  into  their  stroke,  send 
ing  the  small  craft  rapidly  in.  They  went 
through  the  entrance  safely,  although  a  breaker 
rolling  close  to  the  outer  edge  of  the  sand-spit 
half  filled  the  leading  boat.  Then  the}7  rested 
on  their  oars  and  began  to  clear  the  net. 

The  loggerhead  was  far  away  up  the  lagoon 
when  the  fishermen  entered.  He  saw  them  as 
they  were  stretching  the  seine  across  the  entrance 
of  the  inlet  and  watched  them  haul  it  slowly  up 
the  slue,  driving  all  the  fish  before  them.  The 
mullet  were  jumping  in  terror  and  the  whiting 
were  hurrying  for  the  shoal  water  half  a  mile 
[  152  ] 


THE    L  O  G  G  E  R  H  E  A  D 

away.  The  great  sand  shark  who  lay  off  the 
entrance  saw  the  closing  trap  in  time  to  make  a 
lunge  past  the  end  of  the  line,  splashing  the  man 
in  the  bow  with  a  vigorous  slap  of  his  tail  as  he 
swung  across  and  clear.  He  made  a  chop  at  the 
trailing  net,  but  missed  it  in  his  hurry.  Then 
he  went  sullenly  to  sea. 

The  fishermen  landed  on  either  side  of  the 
narrow  lagoon  and  started  to  walk  the  net 
slowly  up,  gradually  closing  the  space  above 
into  smaller  and  smaller  scope.  In  half  an 
hour  they  had  gone  more  than  halfway,  and  the 
frightened  schools  of  fish  began  to  grow  more 
and  more  restless  as  they  saw  the  strangers  ap 
proaching.  Some  of  them  tried  the  meshes  of 
the  seine,  but  they  were  too  small  for  any  save 
the  tiniest  mullet  to  go  through,  and  they 
fled  back  again  to  the  shallow  water  farther 
up. 

The  loggerhead  was  resting  upon  the  surface 
watching  the  men.  They  had  not  yet  noticed 
him,  but  he  had  gone  so  long  without  harm  from 
[153] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

anyone  that  he  anticipated  none.  He  was  satis 
fied  that  his  superiority  to  all  other  creatures  put 
him  beyond  the  pale  of  becoming  a  victim  to 
anything. 

Suddenly  a  fisherman  noticed  him  and  yelled 
to  his  companions  across  the  slue,  pointing  at 
the  bony  beak  that  showed  above  the  surface. 
His  companions  were  too  far  away  to  hear  what 
he  said,  but  their  sharp  eyes  followed  his  signals 
and  they  soon  noticed  the  turtle. 

The  net  was  drawing  in  closer  and  closer,  the 
water  was  getting  shoalcr,  and  the  men  were 
walking  the  lines  ahead  more  rapidly.  The  fish 
imprisoned  beyond  its  scope  now  saw  their  dan 
ger  plainly  and  they  tore  the  water  into  foam 
in  their  frantic  efforts  to  escape.  The  logger 
head  saw  them  and  watched  them  lazily,  much 
amused  at  their  struggles.  His  contempt  for 
them  grew  so  supreme  that  when  they  rushed 
past  him  in  one  of  their  frantic  plunges  he 
snapped  viciously  at  a  lagging  mullet  and  very 
nearly  cut  him  in  two.  Then  he  sank  slowly 
[154] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

down  to  the  sandy  bottom  below,  for  the  hurry 
ing  fish  annoyed  him. 

The  net  was  now  nearly  up  to  the  end  of  the 
slue,  and  a  giant  leader  of  the  mullet  school 
made  a  mighty  dash  for  liberty.  He  tore  down 
the  lagoon  and  rising  with  a  sudden  sweep  up 
ward,  leaped  high  in  the  air  and  plunged  over 
the  line  of  corks  which  floated  the  top  of  the 
trap. 

He  went  free.  Another,  encouraged  by  his  ex 
ample,  made  the  dash  also  and  went  over.  The 
rest,  seeing  the  leaders  leap  to  liberty,  made  a 
dash  in  unison  and  with  a  mighty  rush  plunged 
at  the  floating  line  of  buoys.  Hundreds  went 
over  in  spite  of  the  fishermen,  who  manned  their 
boats  and  rowed  along  the  net,  holding  it  aloft 
wherever  they  saw  the  crowd  coming.  Some 
gave  out  at  the  jump  and  drove  against  the 
deadly  meshes,  and  others,  finding  the  crowd  too 
close  for  them,  swerved  at  the  line  and  flowed  past 
in  a  solid  phalanx  of  shimmering  silver  to  swim 
back  and  make  a  new  trial. 
[155] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

The  cries  of  the  men  and  the  rush  of  the  pass 
ing  schools  began  to  make  the  loggerhead  rest 
less.  There  was  something  very  extraordinary 
taking  place.  He  was  angry  at  the  miserable 
fish  who  were  so  useless  and  helpless.  His  con 
tempt  finally  became  so  great  that  he  concluded 
that  he  would  go  down  to  the  other  end  of  the 
slue  where  the  sand  shark  usually  lay  waiting  for 
the  little  fish  to  come  out  in  deep  water.  He 
started  to  scull  himself  forward  and  had  just 
made  headway  when  he  suddenly  brought  up 
against  the  net. 

The  water  was  less  than  ten  feet  deep  where 
he  was,  and  he  followed  the  obstruction  upward 
to  the  surface,  thinking  to  find  it  end  before  he 
came  into  view  of  the  men.  But  the  line  of 
buoys  held  it  well  up  and  his  head  popped  out 
of  the  water  before  he  realized  that  he  could  not 
pass.  A  man  in  a  boat  made  a  vicious  lunge 
at  him  with  a  boat-hook,  but  he  got  out  of  the 
way  and  followed  the  net  along  trying  to  find  a 
way  to  get  through. 

[156] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

The  mullet  and  whiting  were  now  leaping  by 
scores  over  the  corked  line.  Their  active  life 
had  made  them  fleet  and  strong.  They  had 
fought  for  existence  from  the  beginning,  and 
the  trap  about  them  was  but  another  of  the  many 
obstacles  they  must  surmount  if  they  would  en 
dure.  They  were  terrified,  but  they  acted 
quickly  and  sensibly,  their  fright  not  causing 
them  to  overlook  any  possible  means  of  escape. 
They  were  getting  clear  in  spite  of  the  shouting 
men  who  were  now  hauling  line  as  fast  as  they 
could.  Several  large  skates  and  a  couple  of 
flounders  who  had  lived  up  the  slue  were  vainly 
trying  to  burrow  under  the  heavy  leadline  that 
swept  the  bottom.  The  loggerhead  noticed 
them  as  he  passed,  but  they  paid  no  heed  to  him. 
A  troop  of  crabs  were  being  hustled  along  the 
bottom  by  the  weighted  line.  They  were 
snapping  at  everything  that  came  in  their 
reach. 

The  loggerhead  began  to  get  anxious  to  go 
away.  He  made  a  savage  lunge  at  the  meshes 
[157] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

closing  about  him  and  he  drove  his  head  through 
a  great  rent  he  made  with  his  beak.  His 
paddles,  or  flippers,  however,  caught  in  the  snare 
and  he  struggled  wildly  and  with  gigantic 
power  to  get  through.  His  tremendous  strug 
gles  soon  drew  the  corked  line  below  the  surface 
and  brought  the  fishermen  hurrying  in  their 
boats  to  find  out  what  caused  the  trouble.  ,  They 
gazed  down  into  the  depths  and  soon  made  out 
the  giant  shape  struggling  frantically.  Seiz 
ing  the  lines  of  the  seine  they  quickly  hauled  the 
loggerhead  to  the  surface,  where  one  of  them 
grasped  his  hind  paddle  and  held  it  long  enough 
to  get  a  bowline  around  it.  Then  they  rowed 
to  the  shore,  towing  him  ignominiously  behind 
the  craft,  while  the  few  remaining  mullet,  who 
were  too  small  and  weak  to  make  the  leap  for 
liberty,  crowded  swiftly  through  the  gap  and 
headed  for  the  open  sea. 

Even  the  skates  now  made  for  the  opening  in 
the  trap.     They  rose  to  the  surface  with  diffi 
culty,  but  managed  to  get  clear.     In  less  than 
[158] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

five  minutes  every  living  thing  in  the  shape  of  a 
fish  had  escaped. 

The  fishermen  landed  their  prize  and  tried  to 
haul  him  out  of  the  water.  The  loggerhead 
objected  to  this,  and  he  began  to  haul  them 
bodily  into  the  sea.  The  water  was  riled  and  he 
appeared  monstrous  in  the  foam.  They  could 
not  tell  what  kind  of  creature  he  was,  but  it  was 
for  them  to  get  him  ashore,  and  six  of  them 
hauled  on  the  line  while  two,  wading  in,  began  to 
pry  at  him  with  oars  to  turn  him  upon  his  back. 
In  a  little  while  they  had  him  rolled  over  and 
helpless.  Then  they  came  close  to  examine  their 
victim. 

"  I'd  be  willing  to  lose  half  a  ton  of  fish  fer  a 
fine  green  turtle,"  said  the  leader  of  the  men. 
"  He's  a  corker,  an'  that's  a  fact." 

"  Looks  to  me  like  he's  nothin'  but  one  o'  them 
loggerheads,"  said  an  old  fisherman ;  "  if  he  is, 
he's  played  it  on  us  fine." 

They  looked  at  the  markings  on  his  shell  and 
pulled  out  his  flippers.  Then  the  leader  mopped 
[159] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

his  streaming  face  with  a  handkerchief.  The  old 
fisherman  looked  up  sheepishly  and  grinned. 

"  He  aint  wuth  his  weight  in  mud.  Turn  him 
lose  an'  let  him  slide,"  he  said. 

A  sailor  rapped  him  over  the  head  and  spoke 
feelingly.  Then  they  cut  the  line  adrift  and 
went  to  gather  in  their  torn  net. 

The  loggerhead  lay  upon  his  back  and  waited. 
He  was  annoyed  at  the  disturbance.  It  was  pro 
voking  to  be  turned  over  by  a  lot  of  fishermen. 

The  mullet  had  seen  him  hauled  out  by  the 
flipper,  and  he  grew  angry  at  the  thought.  He 
tried  to  twist  round  and  get  upon  his  belly,  but 
could  not. 

All  day  he  lay  in  the  hot  sunshine  and  snapped 
viciously  at  the  sand-crabs  who  came  to  examine 
him.  Then,  as  the  tide  raised  and  floated  him, 
he  managed  to  get  again  upon  his  paddles.  He 
was  disgusted.  Far  away  down  the  lagoon  a 
ripple  on  the  water  showed  the  returning  mullet. 
He  gazed  at  them  for  a  moment,  then  hauled 
himself  clear  of  the  bottom.  His  ugly  beak  was 
[160] 


THE    LOGGERHEAD 

stuck  far  out,  and  with  steady  strokes  he  pointed 
it  for  the  open  sea.  He  passed  the  returning 
fish,  and  they  wondered  at  him.  Then  he  went 
through  the  opening  and  disappeared  into  the 
great  ocean  to  the  eastward. 


[161] 


TheThiteF 

JL\JJL^ 


THE  WHITE  FOLLOWER 

HE  was  a  little  more  than  fourteen  feet 
across  the  tips  of  his  outspread  wings, 
more  than  two  fathoms,  and  his  white 
breast,  full  and  rounded,  was  as  broad  as  that 
of  the  man  who  stood  at  the  wheel  and  watched 
him  go  soaring  past.  The  very  tips  of  his  huge 
wings  were  black  as  jet,  showing  in  marked  con 
trast  to  the  unbroken  whiteness  of  the  rest  of  his 
feathers,  and  the  only  other  dark  spot  upon  his 
snowy  form  was  his  eye.  This  was  as  black  and 
shiny  as  the  lanyards  in  the  rigging.  It  was 
large  and  held  a  steady  gaze,  fearless  yet  curious, 
so  that  when  the  man  at  the  wheel  looked  up  the 
bird  tilted  his  head  to  one  side  to  get  a  better 
view  of  him.  The  giant  beak,  nearly  a  foot  in 
length  and  of  heavy  bone,  had  a  strangely 
hooked  end,  which  swelled  a  little  in  size  from  the 
[165] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

middle  portion.  It  was  a  serviceable  pair  of 
shears  which  could  cut  a  five-pound  fish  in  two  at 
a  bite.  The  two  webbed  feet,  as  large  again  as 
those  of  a  swan,  were  held  close  in  to  the  short 
tail  feathers  so  as  not  to  offer  resistance  to  the 
air,  through  which  the  bird  went  at  the  speed  of 
an  express  train.  Silent  and  otherwise  motion 
less,  save  for  that  turn  of  the  head,  the  great 
creature  swept  past.  Not  a  movement  of  leg  or 
pinion,  not  a  feather  disturbed  in  that  headlong 
rush.  With  the  great  wings  stretched  far  out 
and  slightly  bowed,  he  held  his  way  and  tore  past 
the  fast-running  ship  as  though  she  were  at 
anchor,  instead  of  plowing  through  the  southern 
ocean  at  the  rate  of  ten  knots  an  hour  with  the 
wind  behind  her.  Then,  as  she  was  left  far 
astern,  he  tilted  himself  a  little,  and  off  into  the 
curve  of  a  tremendous  circle  he  swerved,  swing 
ing  with  the  speed  of  the  wind  over  the  rolling 
wave-tops  until  he  had  covered  at  least  three 
miles  upon  the  arc  and  was  heading  swiftly  back 
again  to  repeat  the  maneuver. 
[166] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

All  the  time  that  large  black  and  shining  pair 
of  eyes  watched  the  surface  of  the  sea.  Not  a 
morsel  of  anything  went  overboard  unobserved. 
From  a  distance  of  a  mile  or  more  the  huge  bird 
would  note  the  smallest  bits  of  food  or  grease 
which  the  cook  would  toss  over  the  side  when 
cleaning  his  coppers  for  a  new  mess  of  salt  junk. 
Sailing  over  the  bits  of  floating  stuff  he  would 
hover  a  moment  to  see  if  they  were  really  worth 
tasting.  If  so,  he  would  soar  in  smaller  and 
smaller  circles  until  he  would  breast  a  sea.  Then, 
dropping  his  legs  and  bracing  his  feet  to  re 
tard  the  slowing  flight,  he  would  sink  into  the 
water  and  check  himself  with  both  feet  and  wings 
until  his  body  finally  rested  gracefully  upon 
surface.  Folding  his  pinions  slowly  and  a  little 
stiffly,  he  would  propel  himself  like  a  huge  goose 
toward  the  floating  prize  and  make  a  pass  at  it 
with  his  beak.  Salt-pork  rind,  gristle,  anything 
that  had  grease  or  taste  to  it,  was  chopped  by  the 
bony  shears  and  quickly  bolted.  It  mattered 
little  just  what  it  was  as  long  as  it  had  some 
[167] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

grease  or  taste  to   it.     His   appetite  was   not 
squeamish. 

When  nothing  remained  he  would  slowly  and 
stiffly  again  stretch  out  those  wings  and  face  to 
windward.  Then  he  would  propel  himself  along 
into  the  breeze  until  he  rose  upon  a  sea.  A  quick 
couple  of  strokes  with  the  pinions  and  a  sudden 
push  with  both  feet  generally  lifted  the  great 
body  clear  of  the  water  before  it  began  to  sink 
down  the  slope  of  the  succeeding  sea.  After 
that  it  was  but  a  detail  to  rise  higher  and  higher 
into  the  clear  air  without  perceptible  motion 
save  of  rushing  ahead  and  circling  in  spiral 
curves,  which  no  mathematician  might  describe 
or  define  as  a  means  of  ascending. 

The  ship  was  something  over  six  hundred  miles 
off  shore.  She  was  heading  for  the  last  corner 
of  the  world,  Cape  Horn,  to  turn  it  and  then  go 
northward  up  the  South  Pacific.  She  would  head 
up  the  middle  of  the  great  ocean  and  at  times 
she  would  not  be  within  a  thousand  miles  of  any 
land  whatever. 

[168] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

For  more  than  two  weeks  the  albatross  had 
followed  in  the  wake,  his  tireless  pinions  show 
ing  no  signs  of  weakening  by  the  continuous 
flight.  Steadily  night  and  day  he  had  followed, 
and  the  men  aboard  had  watched  him  with  the 
awe  all  deep-water  men  feel  for  the  giant  birds, 
which  seen  to  be  able  to  soar  through  space  for 
a  lifetime  without  tiring.  Sometimes  when  he 
came  up  astern  he  slackened  his  pace  by  some 
method  and  remained  for  a  short  moment  poised 
a  few  fathoms  above  the  man  at  the  wheel.  Then 
his  steady  look  as  he  slanted  his  head  sideways 
made  the  man  have  a  queer  feeling?  as  though  he 
were  almost  in  communication  with  a  stranger 
from  the  realms  of  space.  When  the  captain 
happened  on  deck  he  paid»considerable  attention 
to  the  follower,  but  he  never  thought  to  harm 
him.  The  Winchester,  which  he  often  used  to 
take  -snap-shots  at  blackfish,  was  always  laid 
aside  at  his  approach. 

The  great  bird  noted  this.  He  was  not  afraid 
of  the  rifle,  for  although  he  saw  the  effects  of 
[169] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

the  shot,  he  knew  nothing  of  its  power.  The 
man  was  a  creature  of  the  earth  like  himself,  and 
he  had  no  reason  to  suspect  him  of  harmful 
purposes  simply  on  that  account.  He  was  inter 
ested  in  him,  and  a  not  unfriendly  feeling  came 
within  his  breast. 

In  the  latitude  of  the  "  roaring  forties  "  the 
weather  is  uncertain.  Sometimes  it  blows  high 
and  sometimes  low,  which  latter  means  it  is  dead 
calm  for  a  spell.  Under  these  conditions  a  sail 
ing  ship  naturally  comes  to  a  sudden  stop,  and, 
with  clewed-up  courses,  rolls  and  switches  away 
often  for  days  without  making  more  than  a  de 
gree  of  southing. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  calm  spells  that  the 
captain  began  to  formulate  a  plan  which  would 
bring  him  in  closer  contact  with  the  great  bird 
which  still  soared  and  circled  about  the  ship. 
He  rigged  a  trolling  line  with  a  bit  of  wood  for  a 
float  near  the  hook.  Then  he  baited  it  with  a 
piece  of  salt  beef  and  tossed  it  over  the  side. 

The  ship  was  barely  mo.ving,  but  still  had 
[170] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

headway  enough  to  get  away  from  the  bait. 
When  it  was  fifty  fathoms  astern  the  captain 
held  the  line  and  waited. 

The  albatross  soon  sighted  the  piece  of  beef 
and  circled  slowly  toward  it.  Then  as  it  floated 
in  clear  view  he  settled  upon  the  surface  of  the 
sea  and  paddled  up  to  it  and  gave  it  a  chop.  He 
cut  away  half  the  beef,  but  missed  the  hook,  and 
the  captain's  jerk  upon  the  line  merely  pulled 
it  from  him.  He  made  another  grab,  and  as 
he  did  so  the  line  tautened  and  the  barb  of  the 
hook  caught  under  his  beak. 

Hand  over  hand  the  captain  hauled  him  in. 
He  spread  forth  his  wings  and  backed  water  hard 
with  his  feet,  but  the  seaman  kept  a  steady  strain 
upon  the  line  and  prevented  the  hook  from  slip 
ping  clear.  Soon  he  was  directly  under  the 
ship's  counter,  and  as  she  squatted  down  into  the 
hollow  of  a  swell  the  captain  quickly  hauled 
the  bird  over  the  rail  to  the  deck. 

Inside  the  poop-rail  it  was  impossible  for  the 
albatross  to  get  headway  enough  to  rise  into  the 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

air,  the  wind  was  so  unfavorable  in  the  shelter. 
While  he  might  waddle  about  upon  the  white 
planks  it  was  as  impossible  for  him  to  get  away 
as  though  he  had  been  chained  by  the  leg.  It 
was  most  provoking  to  be  in  such  an  absurd  posi 
tion.  The  man  at  the  wheel  grinned  at  him,  and 
the  mate  came  up  to  take  a  better  look  at  close 
quarters.  He  stretched  forth  his  wings  and 
tried  to  rise  by  a  series  of  powerful  strokes,  but 
it  was  in  vain.  He  only  managed  to  go  plung 
ing  into  the  rail  before  he  got  his  feet  clear  of 
the  planks.  This  made  him  angry  and  he 
snapped  at  the  mate,  making  a  savage  chop  with 
his  great  beak,  which  came  together  with  a  loud 
clap.  But  the  seaman  jumped  aside,  and  the 
captain  admonished  him  to  keep  away. 

Gradually  the  feeling  of  being  upon  a  floating 
thing  with  other  creatures  seemed  less  strange. 
It  was  remarkable  how  different  the  ship  was  now 
that  he  was  on  board  it  from  what  it  appeared 
while  he  was  a  few  fathoms  in  the  air.  Yet  he 
had  followed  it  so  long  that  he  had  become  ac- 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

customed  to  it,  and  the  unpleasant  sensation  of 
becoming  suddenly  a  prisoner  aboard  gave  place 
to  that  of  curiosity.  The  captain  brought  some 
choice  fat  and  ordered  the  steward  to  keep  the 
slush  from  the  coppers  as  clean  as  possible  and 
give  the  stranger  as  much  as  he  wished.  After 
eating  several  pounds  he  lost  for  the  time  all 
desire  to  get  away  and  waddled  about  the 
quarter-deck  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  sudden 
change  in  his  condition. 

The  ship's  dog  rushed  up  and  made  a  savage 
attack,  and  for  a  few  minutes  the  great  bird  was 
frightened,  for  the  noise  was  distracting  and  a 
sudden  bite  gave  him  pain.  Then  the  captain 
dragged  the  animal  away  and  gave  the  new 
comer  a  choice  piece  of  salt  pork  to  make  up  for 
the  lack  of  courtesy  shown  by  the  dog. 

There  was  much  of  the  dog's  spirit  aboard  the 
ship,  although  it  was  not  manifest  to  the  alba 
tross.  Among  the  men  forward  were  several 
who  had  much  the  same  feeling  for  their  fellows. 
Under  the  cover  of  bluff  and  honest  exteriors 
[173] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

they  concealed  dispositions  like  that  of  the  dog. 
They  were  a  type  of  what  is  known  as  "  sea 
lawyer,"  and  were  always  dwelling  upon  the 
grievances  of  sailors  and  the  rascality  of  mates 
and  masters.  Close  and  intelligent  observers 
would  have  noticed  at  once  that  the  faults  their 
leader  saw  in  others  were  the  ones  rising  to  the 
surface  in  himself  and  which  he  was  trying  to 
conceal.  He  was  saturnine,  and  his  ugly  little 
eyes  held  an  unpleasant  look  every  time  he  came 
in  the  vicinity  of  either  the  mate  or  captain. 
The  second  officer  was  in  the  other  watch  and 
therefore  not  often  about  to  give  him  orders. 

As  the  vessel  gradually  made  her  way  south 
ward  and  the  hardships  became  more  trying  with 
the  colder  weather,  the  feeling  aboard  among  the 
men  who  listened  to  the  grumbler  became  more 
sinister.  The  captain  was  not  such  a  man  as  to 
let  things  go  unnoticed,  but  as  long  as  there  was 
no  direct  disobedience  of  orders  he  took  no  action 
and  let  the  mate  warm  up  the  discontented  men 
with  extra  work,  for  it  is  well  known  that  hard 
[174] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

work  will  do  more  for  an  ugly  crew  than  any 
medicine. 

The  captain  spent  much  time  on  deck  and 
made  a  pet  of  the  bird  he  had  captured.  He  was 
a  generous  man  and  lonesome  among  the  rough 
fellows  who  made  up  the  crew,  for  his  position 
forbade  any  intercourse  whatever  with  anyone 
except  his  first  officer.  Even  this  seaman,  able 
and  intelligent  as  he  was,  could  not  be  made  more 
of  than  a  slight  acquaintance.  Such  is  the  rule 
aboard  deep-water  ships,  for  discipline  must  be 
enforced  if  safety  is  to  be  considered. 

During  many  lonely  hours  the  master  tried 
to  reconcile  the  dog  to  the  newcomer.  The  old 
wolf  spirit  bred  through  thousands  of  genera 
tions  of  the  land  animal  was  not  easy  to  pacify. 
It  was  the  old  spirit  of  suspicion  for  strangers 
based  upon  the  experience  of  hundreds  of  ances 
tors,  who  had  perhaps  trusted  not  wisely  but  too 
well  in  the  days  when  all  living  things  were  at 
war  with  each  other  and  only  the  strongest  and 
most  cunning  might  survive.  It  was  as  evident 
[175] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

in  the  dog  as  in  the  men  of  the  forecastle,  and 
the  master  studied  carefully  and  comprehensively 
to  subdue  it,  or  at  least  pacify  it  to  an  extent 
that  strife  might  be  averted.  Kindness  and  un 
selfishness  were  the  two  antidotes  he  would 
employ. 

The  great  bird  was  not  slow  to  notice  his 
friendship.  After  a  day  or  two  he  was  on  the 
lookout  for  the  master,  who  appeared  regularly 
to  take  his  morning  observation  for  longitude, 
and  he  walked  laboriously  up  to  him  in  spite  of 
the  dog's  yelping.  There  was  something  in  the 
man's  behavior  that  made  him  instinctively  his 
friend.  Finally  even  the  dog's  suspicions  were 
allayed,  and  instead  of  seizing  the  bird's 
feathers  in  the  rear  to  jerk  them  and  then  dodge 
the  snap  of  the  beak,  he  met  the  bird  face  to  face 
and  refrained  from  either  a  bite  or  bark.  The 
two  became  reconciled. 

During  several  days  the  albatross  waddled 
about  the  quarter-deck  and  was  fed,  until  the 
captain,  fearing  that  he  would  grow  so  fat  he 
[  176  ] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

would  be  unable  to  fly,  finally  took  him  in  his 
arms  one  day  and  placed  him  upon  the  rail. 
Then  he  tied  a  bit  of  fancy  red  cord  about  his 
leg  so  that  he  might  distinguish  him  from  other 
birds  that  would  follow  in  the  ship's  wake.  The 
great  bird  had  long  ago  learned  to  eat  from  the 
man's  hand  and  took  care  not  to  chop  too  close  to 
the  fingers  with  his  powerful  beak.  The  master 
would  stroke  the  beautiful  white  head  and  smooth 
the  snowy  feathers  until  the  petting  became  a 
thing  looked  forward  to.  It  was  a  smooth  day 
in  the  latitude  of  the  Falklands  when  he  deter 
mined  to  set  the  captive  free,  and  the  dark  water 
seemed  less  attractive  than  usual  under  the  gloom 
of  the  overcast  sky.  The  lonely  cry  of  a  stray 
penguin  broke  now  and  again  upon  the  ears  of 
the  listening  seaman  and  had  a  depressing 
effect. 

With  a  last  caress  he  gave  the  pet  a  gentle 

push  to  start  him.     The  great  black  eyes  looked 

hard  at  the  sailor,  and  then,  with  the  giant  wings 

outstretched,  he  swung  off  in  a  graceful  swoop, 

[177] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

curving  upward  as  the  falling  body  nearly 
touched  the  sea.  He  was  gone. 

That  night  it  came  on  to  blow  hard  from  the 
westward.  The  ship,  nearing  the  latitude  of 
the  Horn,  was  shortened  down  to  her  lower  top 
sails,  and  with  the  wind  ^noring  away  under  them 
and  past  each  taut  downhaul,  clewline,  and  hal 
yard,  she  was  hove  to.  It  was  necessary  to  try 
to  keep  her  from  sagging  off  to  the  eastward,  for 
in  this  latitude  every  mile  counts. 

During  the  morning  watch  the  mate  had 
reason  to  call  the  captain,  for  with  a  falling  glass 
and  shifting  wind,  he  was  on  the  lookout  for  a 
definite  change. 

The  captain  came  on  deck  and  took  in  the 
situation.  It  was  still  dark,  but  the  growing 
light  on  the  horizon  told  of  the  approaching 
day.  He  stood  near  the  man  at  the  wheel  a 
moment  and  the  mate  went  forward  where  the 
green  seas  sometimes  rose  above  the  topgallant 
rail  and  fell  upon  the  deck  as  the  staggering 
ship  plunged  into  the  trough.  Through  the 
[178] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

dim,  misty  light  of  the  early  morning  he  saw  the 
watch  turning  out  to  clew  down  the  foretopsail, 
and  as  the  foremost  man  took  the  ratlines  he 
turned  and  walked  to  the  binnacle  to  watch  the 
shifting  course. 

The  increasing  gale  and  gloomy  prospects 
had  caused  the  grumbling  element  among  the 
crew  to  be  more  careless  than  usual,  in  spite  of 
the  master's  efforts  to  pacify  them.  The  leader 
of  the  malcontents  came  aft  with  two  others  to 
take  a  pull  in  the  spanker  sheet,  for  upon  the 
boom  had  been  bent  the  storm  trysail  to  hold  the 
vessel's  head  up  to  the  gale  while  hove  to.  The 
men  hauled  surlily  upon  the  line, but  it  came  in  so 
slowly  that  the  mate  came  aft  and  spoke  to  them 
to  stir  them  up.  Then  they  flattened  it  in,  but 
the  stout  landsman,  or  ordinary  seaman,  who  was 
taking  in  the  slack  upon  the  cleat,  failed  to  catch 
a  turn.  A  tremendous  sea  hove  the  ship  to  lee 
ward  almost  upon  her  beam-ends.  The  strug 
gling  men  were  hove  against  the  lee  rail,  and 
the  sheet,  whirling  loose  from  the  fellow's  hands, 
[HO] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

caught  a  turn  about  his  body  and  in  an  instant 
he  was  flung  over  the  side.  The  captain,  who 
had  just  stepped  out  from  the  wheel-house,  made 
a  grab  to  seize  him,  and  a  turn  of  the  now  flying 
line  caught  him  around  the  ankle  and  jerked  him 
also  over  the  rail  into  the  sea.  Then  followed 
the  dreaded  cry  of  "  man  overboard  "  and  the 
confusion  of  a  crew  of  men  without  a  leader. 

The  mate  with  ready  knife  cut  away  the 
lashings  of  the  quarter-buoys  and  let  them  go 
overboard.  Then  he  tried  to  fling  a  line,  but  the 
ship  was  moving  too  fast.  She  was  forereach- 
ing  heavily,  but  in  that  sea  it  was  madness  to 
think  of  trying  to  stop  her  by  laying  the  yards 
aback,  or  losing  control  of  her  in  any  way.  She 
must  go  on.  They  might  shorten  her  down 
enough  to  stop  her,  but  even  if  they  could  do  so 
within  half  an  hour  she  would  be  too  far  away 
to  see  a  man  in  the  water  and  the  sea  too  heavy 
to  think  of  lowering  a  small  boat. 

Daylight  was  breaking  over  the  stormy  ocean 
and  the  roar  from  aloft  was  sounding  louder 
[180] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

with  the  increasing  gale.  Many  of  the  men  for 
ward  had  not  seen  the  incident  and  the  cries  of 
those  upon  the  foretopsail  yard  to  those  on  deck 
could  be  heard.  From  a  bunch  at  the  weather 
clewline  came  a  faint  strain  of  a  "  chanty  " : 

"  '  Ole  stormy,  'e  was  a  good  ole  man — 

Singing  yo,  ho,  ho — with  a  hey — bar-rrr.'" 

The  absurd  chorus  struck  forcibly  upon  the 
ears  of  the  master,  who  with  both  hands  gripped 
the  life-buoy  and  kept  his  head  clear  of  the 
breaking  seas.  The  mate,  leaning  over  the 
taffrail,  bawled  something  to  him  he  could  not 
understand,  and  then  the  ship  drifted  to  leeward 
with  the  faint  sound  of  singing  still  in  his  ears : 

"  '  Ole  stormy,  'e'll  come  walking  home, 
Singing  yo,  ho,  ho— with  a  hey— bar-rrrrr. 

"  '  Ole  stormy,  'e  has  gone  to  sea — 

But  'e'll  not  come  back,  with  ahey — bar-r-rr-rr. ' " 

The  words  of  a  "  chanty "  are  generally 
grotesque  and  meaningless,  but  it  was  this  very 
absurdity  that  struck  the  listening  master  as 
fraught  with  meaning.  It  was  significant  of  his 
ending.  He  would  not  come  back  again. 
[181] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

The  water  was  quite  cold,  and  to  make  certain 
that  he  would  not  lose  his  hold  upon  the  cork 
float  he  passed  his  head  through  the  circular 
opening  and  made  his  body  fast  with  the  hand- 
line  to  the  buoy  at  both  sides,  so  that  he  would 
balance  evenly.  He  would  do  all  he  could  to 
'live,  and  if  he  floated  long  enough  they  might 
pick  him  up  after  all.  The  minutes  dragged 
into  hours,  and  cold  and  exhaustion  caused  his 
mind  to  wander.  He  fancied  he  saw  green 
fields  again  and  was  back  in  the  land  of  his 
birth. 

The  suffering  of  passing  was  almost  over  and 
it  held  no  terrors  for  him.  He  had  tried  to  do 
what  he  could  aboard  the  ship  to  make  things 
less  hard  for  his  men.  Perhaps  if  he  had  been 
more  savage  he  would  have  done  better,  for  there 
are  some  men  who  cannot  be  touched  save 
through  great  bodily  fear. 

The  dawn  of  the  southern  day  had  broken 
over  the  heaving  ocean,  and  at  times  he  would  try 
instinctively  to  look  for  the  ship.  She  had  dis- 
[  182] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

appeared.  Nothing  but  the  great  rolling  seas 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  these  turned 
now  and  again  into  grass-grown  hills  before  his 
failing  vision. 

It  was  late  in  the  morning,  after  the  daylight 
had  become  strong,  that  he  fancied  he  heard  a 
dull,  thunderous  noise.  It  had  little  effect  upon 
him  now,  for  he  was  too  far  gone  to  pay  much 
attention.  The  noise  grew  louder  and  louder 
as  the  minutes  passed  and  suddenly  his  dulled 
brain  became  alert  again.  He  looked  toward 
where  the  sound  come  from,  and  it  was  from  the 
northward  and  behind  him,  and  through  the  haze 
of  the  flying  spume-drift  he  saw  the  dark  gray 
shadows  of  rocks.  He  fancied  his  mind  was  at 
fault,  and  in  spite  of  the  heavy  roar  which  now 
filled  the  air  he  paid  little  attention.  Then  he 
was  hove  nearer  the  ledge  and  felt  the  rush  of  the 
lifting  sea. 

It  spurred  him  to  recover.  He  dashed  the 
salt  water  from  his  eyes  and  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  realize  his  position.  Then  a  great,  high 
[183] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

rolling  surge  that  had  run  for  miles  across  the 
southern  ocean  picked  him  up  on  its  crest  and 
bore  him  shoreward  with  the  speed  of  the  wind. 
As  it  broke  into  a  white  smother  of  foam  he  saw 
clearly  at  last  that  he  was  being  hurled  upon  the 
rocks.  He  struggled  to  keep  his  head  out  of  the 
boiling  rush  and  looked  for  a  place  where  he 
would  strike.  To  hit  the  ledge  at  the  speed  he 
was  going  meant  instant  death,  and  he  tried  to 
see  if  there  was  no  slue  or  opening  into  which  he 
might  be  hurled.  The  current  of  the  Antarctic 
had  caused  an  eddy  within  a  few  miles  of  the 
rocks  of  Hermite  Isle,  in  which  he  had  drifted, 
and  it  had  carried  him  toward  the  land  at  a 
rapid  rate. 

Rising  upon  the  roll  of  the  crest,  he  just 
managed  to  keep  from  striking  until  the  weight 
and  speed  of  the  breaker  had  been  exhausted. 
Then  by  chance  and  the  aid  of  the  buoy  he 
managed  to  float  into  a  crevice  between  the  rocks 
and  cling  there  until  the  back-wash  had  left  him 
almost  high  and  dry.  With  the  last  remaining 
[184] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

energy  left  he  hauled  his  body  clear  of  the  tide 
and  lost  consciousness. 

When  he  regained  his  senses  the  sun  was  well 
up  on  the  northwestern  horizon.  The  wind  had 
gone  down  considerably,  and  heavy,  oily-looking 
clouds  were  hurrying  past  overhead,  with  breaks 
between  them.  He  felt  the  sting  of  sleet  upon 
his  face  and  the  chill  from  his  wet  clothes  almost 
paralyzed  him.  He  staggered  to  his  feet  and 
gazed  about  him.  Then  he  crawled  higher  up 
the  rocks. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it,  he  was  upon  the 
rocks  of  Cape  Horn.  He  was  clear  in  his  mind 
now  and  remembered  his  struggles,  and  he  had 
seen  the  ragged  hump  too  often  not  to  recognize 
it  at  once.  How  his  ship  had  been  driven  in  so 
close  was  hard  to  guess,  but  he  knew  the  treach 
erous  currents  of  the  Drift  and  remembered  that. 
a  careless  helmsman  might  very  easily  nurse  the 
vessel  off  her  course  with  the  help  of  an  unknown 
set  to  the  northward. 

While  he  looked  about  him  he  became  aware 
[185] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

that  he  needed  nourishment  very  badly.  He  was 
faint  with  the  long  swim  and  continued  exposure 
to  the  cold  water  and  he  must  have  remained  un 
conscious  for  many  hours  after  coming  ashore. 
There  was  nothing  to  eat  upon  the  ledge.  Tufts 
of  the  great  tussac-grass  shot  up  here  and  there 
upon  the  heights  above  him,  but  there  was  noth 
ing  that  looked  as  if  it  might  be  used  to  prolong 
his  life. 

But  a  seaman  is  never  beaten  until  he  dies. 
The  master  would  not  despair.  He  sat  a  mo 
ment  and  studied  the  question.  Then  he  arose 
again  and  clambered  painfully  up  the  crags, 
hoping  that  he  might  find  some  Cape  pigeon 
eggs  upon  the  higher  terraces.  There  was  not 
a  sign  of  anything  except  a  great  rock -hopper, 
or  penguin,  who  skipped  nimbly  down  and 
plunged  into  the  sea  with  a  loud  cry  before  the 
sailor  could  reach  him.  Some  thirty  feet  above 
the  ledge  upon  which  he  landed  he  discovered  a 
pool  of  half-stagnant  water,  but  it  was  not  salty 
and  came  from  the  melted  snow  and  sleet.  He 
[186] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

drank  some  and  felt  better,  although  it  made  him 
colder.  He  felt  through  his  clothes  for  a  match, 
but  found  the  metal  case  in  which  he  carried 
them  had  failed  to  keep  out  the  sea  water.  His 
numb  fingers  could  scarcely  open  the  case,  but 
he  finally  placed  the  little  sticks  in  a  lee,  where 
he  hoped  they  would  dry  enough  to  light.  Then 
he  sat  down  and  waited,  and  before  he  knew  it  he 
had  fallen  asleep. 

The  sun  had  swung  up  again  in  the  northeast 
when  he  opened  his  eyes  and  the  weather  was  less 
ugly.  He  tried  his  matches.  First  one  was 
scratched  carefully  upon  a  dry  piece  of  stone. 
The  head  crumbled  slowly  away.  A  bit  of  smoke 
seemed  to  start  from  it  and  the  seaman's  heart 
beat  rapidly.  Then  the  head  fell  away,  leaving 
the  bare  stick.  It  was  worthless.  He  tried  an 
other  of  his  scanty  store.  He  grasped  the  little 
stick  close  to  its  head  of  composition  and  drew  it 
very  carefully  upon  the  rock.  A  bunch  of  finely 
shredded  grass,  perfectly  dry,  was  rolled  into  a 
ball  to  catch  the  first  spurt  of  flame.  The  match 
[187] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

cracked  softly  and  at  each  noise  the  sailor's 
heart  seemed  to  stop.  His  hand  shook  violently. 
Then  the  head  of  the  match  crumbled  again,  and 
his  spirits  sank  within  him.  It  was  life  or  death, 
for  he  must  have  warmth  soon  or  perish.  He  had 
only  three  more  fuses  and  he  stopped  a  little  to 
think  of  some  way  he  might  make  them  burn. 
He  gazed  steadily  at  them  for  a  long  time  and 
then  took  up  one.  It  failed. 

Hope  died  away  as  he  took  up  the  other  two. 
He  struck  them  carefully  as  before,  but  they 
were  spoiled.  Then  he  cast  the  grass  from  him 
and  looked  out  to  sea. 

He  had  been  gazing  for  a  long  time  before  he 
was  aware  of  a  form  which  appeared  circling 
over  the  ocean  beyond  the  lift  of  the  breakers. 
It  was  that  of  a  huge  albatross,  which  had  come 
in  from  the  sea  and  was  apparently  looking  for 
a  sheltered  place  upon  the  Horn  to  rest.  The 
master  gazed  at  the  great  white  form  skimming 
along  over  the  wave-tops  and  remembered  his 
pet.  The  bird  appeared  larger  than  the  one  he 
[188] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

had  caught,  but  all  of  the  great  Cape  alba 
trosses  were  so  much  alike  that  he  could  not  dis 
tinguish  between  them.  He  watched  the  bird 
circle  about  him  and  finally  noticed  that  he  had 
been  discovered,  for  the  creature  came  nearer 
and  nearer  at  each  sweep  until  he  caught  the 
look  of  its  eye  as  it  bent  its  head  a  little  in 
order  to  observe  him  better.  The  albatross  was 
evidently  hungry  and  it  might  take  very  little 
indeed  to  invite  an  attack.  The  bird  was  prac 
tically  carnivorous,  for  it  ate  anything  in  the 
way  of  flesh  it  could  capture.  It  was  very  pow 
erful  and  could  get  the  best  of  a  man  without 
much  trouble,  provided  the  man  was  incapable 
of  vigorous  defense.  The  thought  made  him 
alert  and  brought  to  his  own  hungry  self  the 
idea  of  capture.  He  might  do  worse  than  eat 
a  thirty-pound  bird  during  his  stay  ashore. 
He  could  not  cook  the  creature,  but  that  would  be 
of  but  small  consequence  in  his  present  state. 
The  food  was  the  main  thing  and  it  was  neces 
sary  to  get  something  at  once. 
[189] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

The  bird  came  closer  and  closer  until  finally 
with  outstretched  wings  and  projecting  feet  it 
backed  against  its  own  headway  and  settled 
upon  the  ledge  not  twenty  feet  distant. 

The  captain's  heart  beat  high  with  expecta 
tion.  He  lay  perfectly  still  watching  it,  hoping 
that  it  would  come  near  enough  for  him  to  grasp 
it.  If  it  was  strong  enough  to  conquer,  it  was 
well;  he  would  soon  be  dead  anyway  without 
food.  If  he  could  master  it  by  gripping  its 
throat,  he  might  live  for  many  days. 

The  bird  came  straight  toward  him.  He  was 
quiet  as  a  cat  waiting  for  a  spring,  his  eyes 
glaring  at  it  as  it  approached.  Then  something 
attracted  his  attention.  Upon  the  foot  of  the 
bird  was  a  bit  of  cord.  Yes,  there  was  no  mis 
take,  it  was  his  pet,  the  bird  he  had  captured. 
He  started  up  with  a  cry,  but  the  bird  came 
steadily  toward  him  without  fear,  and  in  an  in 
stant  was  poking  his  great  beak  into  his  hand 
for  food. 

The  seaman's  heart  was  beating  wildly.  Here 
[190] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

was  food  enough  for  a  week  right  in  his  grasp. 
He  had  but  to  seize  the  bird's  neck  quickly  and 
with  the  little  strength  he  had  left  he  could 
strangle  it.  The  thought  called  forth  all  the 
wild  wolf  spirit  in  his  nature.  He  was  trembling 
with  the  excitement.  But,  as  he  looked  down 
upon  the  beautiful,  smooth  white  neck  of  his 
former  pet,  he  wavered.  Something  within  him 
rose  against  a  deed  of  violence.  He  stroked  the 
soft  feathers  and  looked  at  the  creature,  who 
was  probably  almost  as  hungry  as  himself.  No, 
he  would  commit  no  horrid  act.  He  would  prob 
ably  starve  anyhow,  and  it  would  be  better  to  die 
than  to  have  such  a  conscience.  Then  all  of  the 
beast  fell  away  from  him  and  he  felt  better. 

But  while  he  sat  and  stroked  the  great  bird 
his  mind  was  active.  The  albatross  would  not 
remain  there  long.  He  would  follow  some  vessel 
for  the  beef-fat  from  her  coppers,  and  as  the 
thought  came  to  him  he  began  a  plan  to  attract 
attention. 

He  tore  from  his  shirt  a  long  piece  of  linen. 
[191] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

This  was  a  piece  having  his  name  written  upon 
it  in  indelible  ink  which  had  stood  the  wash  of  the 
laundry.  It  would  stand  the  wash  of  the  sea. 
He  made  it  fast  to  the  bird's  leg,  and  the  bight 
of  it  he  brought  up  over  the  back  beneath  the 
wings,  tying  it  loosely  and  leading  the  other  end 
down  so  that  it  could  be  fastened  to  the  other 
leg.  The  thin  cloth  lying  loose  would  prevent 
the  bird  from  cutting  it  with  its  beak,  for  the 
edges  of  that  appendage,  while  very  sharp,  were 
not  laid  as  close  together  as  those  of  a  pair  of 
shears,  and  the  thin  cloth  would  work  between 
them.  Upon  the  top  of  the  piece  he  wrote  with 
his  own  blood,  "  Cape  Horn,  Hermite  Isle, 
Help."  Underneath  this  he  put  the  date,  and  let 
his  laundry  mark  do  for  signature.  Then  he 
led  the  bird  gently  to  the  edge  of  the  rock  and 
pushed  him  over. 

Afterward  he  settled  down  in  his  bed  of  tussac 

and  waited  for  the  end  he  now  felt  was  at  hand. 

He  prayed  to  the  God  he  had  felt  in  the  breath 

of  the  trade  wind  and  roar  of  the  storm,  the 

[192] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

power  which  was  manifest  in  all  nature.  Then 
a  feeling  of  peace  came  upon  him  and  his  suffer 
ings  were  over;  he  had  collapsed. 

Two  days  later  the  Norwegian  bark  Eric  was 
working  to  the  westward  past  Cape  St.  John. 
Her  captain  had  noticed  a  great  albatross  follow 
ing  his  vessel  all  day,  and  saw  the  bird  had  some 
thing  fast  to  its  leg.  Being  of  a  very  supersti 
tious  nature  the  master  did  everything  he  could 
to  attract  the  bird's  attention  and  draw  him 
close  enough  to  observe  the  hanging  cloth  more 
thoroughly.  He  was  astonished  to  find  the  bird 
quite  tame,  and  had  no  difficulty  in  hauling  it  on 
deck  with  a  baited  hook.  He  took  off  the  rag 
and  read  the  inscription,  which  had  luckily  kept 
clear  and  dry,  for  the  weather  had  been  cold 
and  the  sleet  squalls  had  not  caused  the  writing 
to  run. 

Being  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Horn,  he 

did  what  no  one  but  a  very  superstitious  master 

would  have  done  without  great  trepidation.     He 

stood  under  all  sail  for  Hermite  Isle  and  hove 

[193] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

his  ship  to  not  three  miles  from  the  rocks.  The 
weather  was  better  than  usual  and  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  lowering  a  small  boat  and  making  a 
landing. 

As  the  craft  drew  near  the  land  the  white 
life-buoy  attracted  the  helmsman's  attention,  ly 
ing  high  up  on  the  rocks  and  showing  out 
strongly  against  the  background  of  black  ledge. 
The  boat  was  headed  into  a  rift  or  slue,  and  two 
of  the  men  managed  to  spring  out  of  her,  the 
rest  keeping  her  clear  of  the  rocks,  which,  al 
though  sheltered  in  the  slue,  felt  the  tremendous 
lift  and  back-wash  of  the  heavy  swell  outside. 
The  master  was  found  unconscious  in  his  bed  of 
tussac-grass. 

By  care  and  skill  they  managed  to  get  him 
into  the  small  boat  alive  and  started  for  the  bark 
that  was  riding  safely  in  the  offing.  They  hur 
ried  back  aboard  and  came  alongside  just  as 
the  Norwegian  navigator  set  the  great  bird  free 
again.  The  men  rested  upon  their  oars  and 
Vatched  the  albatross  as  it  stretched  forth  its 
[194] 


THE    WHITE    FOLLOWER 

wings  and  bore  away  to  the  southward.  A  man 
standing  in  the  lee  rigging  held  a  line  to  throw 
to  the  bow  oarsmen,  but  he  hesitated  and  watched 
the  majestic  flight.  The  officer  in  the  boat 
looked  instinctively  upward,  and,  as  the  huge 
creature  soared  away,  he  took  off  his  cap  and 
bowed  his  head. 


[195] 


KING  ALBICORE 

HE  came  from  a  race  of  giants.  His  an 
cestors  had  held  sway  over  the  great 
breadth  of  the  Pacific  for  many  centu 
ries,  and  were  the  lords  of  the  South  Sea.  When 
he  first  saw  the  light  it  was  where  the  towering 
peaks  of  Juan  Fernandez  rose  above  the  eastern 
sea,  like  the  backs  of  huge  marine  monsters, 
from  the  deep  ocean,  topped  by  a  heavy  pall  of 
vapor  which  rose  densely  for  miles  into  the  blue 
above  and  spread  out  like  an  enormous  umbrella. 
Between  the  darkening  under  surface  of  the 
higher  layers  of  white,  reaching  down  to  the 
green  hills  beneath,  rectangular  sections  of  steel- 
blue  showed  the  semi-tropic  rainfall.  They  were 
sharply  outlined  against  the  clear  sky  beyond, 
for  off  the  land  the  sky  was  devoid  of  a  single 
trade-cloud. 

[199] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

All  around  was  peaceful  calm.  The  great 
Pacific,  father  of  waters,  was  resting.  Only  the 
high-rolling  swell  from  far  away  to  the  westward 
came  majestically  onward  toward  the  shore,  ris 
ing  higher  and  higher  as  it  met,  deep  down,  the 
resistance  of  the  outlying  reefs,  until  it  threw  its 
crest  far  into  the  air,  and,  with  a  thunderous 
roar  of  welcome,  rushed  white  and  churning 
against  the  iron-hard  cliffs,  which  received  it 
silently  and  hurled  it  backward  as  if  coldly  repel 
lent  of  its  embrace. 

The  sun  had  shone  strongly  for  days  upon  the 
smooth,  heaving  swell,  and  out  upon  the  sunken 
ledges  where  the  albicore  lingered ;  the  rays  fil 
tered  down  to  the  solid  rock.  Here,  sheltered  by 
the  reef  beyond,  the  breakers  did  not  disturb  the 
ocean  denizens.  The  deep-toned  thunder  of  the 
fall  on  the  outer  barrier  filled  the  air,  but 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  clear  water  all  was 
quiet  in  the  sunshine.  The  king  was  a  young  one 
of  a  large  family.  Scores  of  his  brothers  and  sis 
ters  lay  close  to  the  bottom  peering  in  and  out 
[200] 


KING    ALBICORE 

among  the  forests  of  kelp,  and  enjoying  the 
rays  of  the  warm  sun,  for  the  albicore  is  essen 
tially  a  surface  fish.  The  heat  and  light  were 
very  pleasant  to  them,  and  they  were  growing 
strong  and  healthy. 

The  older  fish  had  come  inshore  some  weeks 
before  our  hero  was  born,  but  food  was  plentiful 
about  the  island  and  they  still  lingered.  They 
had  spawned  and  had  seen  their  young  brought 
forth.  Now  their  duty  was  done  and  they 
swarmed  about  the  ledges  or  plunged  playfully 
about  the  slues  in  the  reef,  chasing  the  smaller 
fish  to  shelter  in  pure  wantonness.  They  lin 
gered  on  when  it  was  time  for  them  to  take  to 
the  great  stretch  of  ocean  to  the  westward  and 
make  room  for  others  of  the  deep  ocean  tribes. 
Now  the  3'oung  were  about  in  great  numbers,  and 
they  seemed  almost  to  crowd  the  waters  in  the 
sheltered  coves.  It  was  high  time  to  go  to  sea 
again,  and  on  the  morrow  the  leaders  of  the 
school  would  start  for  the  open  ocean  to  the  west, 
where  the  sun  sank  out  of  sight.  Those  who 
[201  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

could  follow  might  be  safe,  for  the  older  fish  were 
very  strong,  and  their  numbers  would  prevent 
any  of  the  hanger-on  crowd  of  sullen  sharks  from 
coming  too  near  the  flanks  of  the  moving  throng. 
A  leader  passed  while  our  young  one  was 
watching  the  light.  He  was  a  great  fish  six  feet 
in  length,  his  sides  shimmering  like  silver.  His 
long,  sinuous  body  apparently  made  no  motion, 
save  that  it  went  ahead  slowly  and  steadily,  and 
his  eyes  sparkled  like  glistening  crystals.  His 
thin,  tapering  head  seemed  barely  to  disturb  the 
medium  about  him  as  he  went  through  it,  and  the 
only  vibration  of  the  light  rays  near  him  was 
caused  by  the  huge  mouth,  which,  although  shut, 
showed  heavy  projecting  lips  and  a  half -con 
cealed  row  of  pointed  teeth  that  rippled  the  water 
slightly  as  he  slipped  past.  He  was  a  long, 
powerful  fellow,  capable  of  great  speed,  and  a 
stroke  from  those  jaws  of  his  meant  death  to 
anything  in  the  sea  of  his  size  except  the  shark. 
Even  the  tough  hide  of  this  scavenger  would  not 
protect  him  from  a  frightful  cut  when  the  long, 
[202] 


KING    ALBICORE 

muscular  body  was  launched  at  him  with  the 
speed  of  an  arrow.  A  dark  shadow  which  had 
corne  near  the  edge  of  the  broken  water  gradually 
drew  away  with  the  albicore's  approach,  and  the 
young  one  experienced  a  feeling  of  relief  instinct 
ively  which  he  could  not  understand.  He  was 
a  very  sensitive  young  one,  all  nerves,  and  the 
uneasiness  which  possessed  him  when  the  large 
relative  drew  away  caused  him  to  make  an  effort 
to  follow.  But  the  great  albicore  took  no  notice 
of  him,  nor  waited,  but  suddenly  made  a  dart 
ahead,  leaving  only  the  vision  of  a  silvery  flash. 

Other  large  fellows  came  and  went  while  the 
younger  ones  strayed  about  the  shoal  water  and 
chased  the  herring  spawn  or  whale-food,  eating 
much  and  gaining  strength  hourly. 

High  above  the  bare  rocks  a  shaggy  goat  nib 
bled  the  grass  of  the  hillside,  and  to  the  south 
ward  a  chunky,  dirty  bark  lay  with  her  courses 
hauled  up  and  her  mainyards  aback,  while  a 
dense  smoke  arose  from  her  trying-out  furnace. 
Alongside  of  her  the  carcass  of  a  freshly  killed 
[203] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

whale  rolled  just  awash  in  the  swell,  attracting 
countless  thousands  of  whalebirds  and  loafing 
sharks. 

The  young  albicore  grew  very  nervous  as  the 
sun  sank  behind  the  sea  in  the  far  west,  dyeing 
the  waves  a  deep  crimson.  He  was  remarkably 
sensitive  for  an  ocean  fish.  Instinct  told  him 
that  he  would  fare  better  away  from  that  reef 
after  the  last  full-grown  albicore  had  gone. 
They  had  been  going  to  sea  all  day  by  twos  and 
threes,  but  had  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to 
him  or  any  of  his  younger  mates.  The  longing 
for  the  open  ocean  came  upon  him  and  with  it 
a  nameless  dread.  He  had  no  mother  to  guide 
him,  no  father  to  protect  him.  They  had  gone 
to  sea  with  the  rest  and  left  him  to  shift  for  him 
self.  But  there  was  something  in  the  deepening 
roar  of  the  surf  and  the  moaning  of  the  sea 
among  the  sunken  ledges  that  spoke  of  an  all- 
pervading  Power  that  would  guide  him  onward 
to  whatever  life  held  in  store.  And  yet  with  it 
all  was  that  nameless  fear  and  dread  which  made 
[204] 


KING    ALBICORE 

him  alert  to  every  vibration  of  the  water.  Dark 
ness  came  suddenly,  and  some  of  his  smaller  com 
panions  began  to  seek  shelter  of  the  more  shallow 
water  within  the  coves  and  between  the  rocks. 
Their  shimmering  bodies  grew  less  and  less  dis 
tinct  until  only  the  phosphorescent  flare  of  the 
disturbed  water  when  they  moved  gave  notice  of 
their  presence.  The  semi-tropical  night  fell 
upon  the  peaceful  ocean. 

All  that  night  the  great  fish  moved  westward. 
In  the  morning,  just  before  the  sun  rose,  the  last 
of  the  laggards  had  started  off  into  deep  water, 
leaving  the  high  cliffs  like  a  wall  in  the  eastward, 
while  the  somber  bank  of  vapor  rose  again  from 
the  land  and  cast  a  gloom  over  the  outlying  reef. 

While  the  young  fish  were  waiting  for  the 
growing  light  to  guide  them  in  the  wake  of  their 
forbears,  there  was  a  sudden  commotion  on  the 
edge  of  the  surf.  Numerous  plunges  and 
splashes  told  of  a  horde  of  rapidly  moving  bodies 
advancing  through  the  shoal  water  of  the  reef. 
The  feeling  of  terror  that  had  come  over  our 
[205] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

young  one  the  day  before  now  seemed  to  pervade 
the  entire  crowd  that  scurried  here  and  there  in 
the  jjloom.  Everywhere  there  seemed  to  be  a 
state  of  wild  alarm.  Bunches  of  the  smaller 
fish  tried  to  find  shelter  in  deep,  dark  holes  where 
the  kelp  weed  formed  mats  and  snaky  tangles. 
Then,  just  as  the  first  rays  of  the  morning  sun 
glistened  upon  the  crest  of  a  great  roller,  there 
was  a  sudden  rush  through  the  water  all  about, 
and  dark  forms  came  plunging  onward  with  in 
credible  speed. 

Our  young  one  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  great 
fish  high  in  the  air  heading  for  him,  and  the  next 
instant  there  were  several  huge  gaping  mouths 
between  pairs  of  shining  eyes  rushing  upon  him 
from  all  sides.  He  saw  his  young  comrades 
seized  and  swallowed,  their  frantic  efforts  to 
escape  availing  them  not  the  least.  Then  with 
a  wild  terror,  which  spurred  him  to  frantic  ac 
tion,  he  rushed  seaward.  A  giant  mouth  made 
a  snap  at  him  as  he  went  past.  A  huge  form 
rose  in  the  air  and  dropped  upon  him  with  jaws 
[206] 


KING    ALBICORE 

gaping.  He  made  a  mad  dodge  and  just  missed 
the  rows  of  teeth,  while  the  stroke  of  the  falling 
body  almost  stunned  him.  Then  he  recovered 
and  tore  for  the  outer  breakers.  THpjbonita 
had  struck  inshore,  and  lucky  would  be  the  small 
fish  who  could  escape  their  rush. 

Away  into  the  deepening  blue  of  the  ocean  he 
sped  headlong  with  all  his  energy.  He  looked 
neither  to  the  right  nor  left,  but  held  his  way 
straight  ahead  with  the  terror  of  those  fierce 
monsters  vibrating  through  his  whole  being.  On 
and  on,  without  a  thought  of  rest  or  slacking 
his  speed,  he  pushed  until  the  bright  sunshine 
showed  him  a  desolate  waste  of  fathomless  blue 
void  around  and  beneath  him,  and  a  bluer  void 
above,  with  the  little  lumpy  trade-clouds  swing 
ing  past  overhead.  He  was  heading  almost  due 
west,  and  as  the  day  wore  on  and  his  terror  gave 
place  to  fatigue,  he  slacked  his  speed  enough  to 
take  a  careful  look  about  him.  There  was  not 
a  living  thing  in  sight. 

Hunger  soon  came  upon  him  and  stirred  him 
[207] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

to  further  action.  He  began  searching  the  sea 
for  food.  Soon  one  of  his  former  companions 
came  up  almost  as  exhausted  as  himself  with  the 
run  for  life,  and  together  they  swam  slowly  along 
just  beneath  the  surface  in  the  roll  of  the  swell. 

As  the  day  passed  more  of  his  youthful  rela 
tives  hove  in  sight  until  by  night  six  followers 
held  their  way  in  his  wake.  These  were  all  who 
had  gotten  to  sea.  Few  indeed  had  escaped. 
The  day  had  marked  the  death  of  countless 
young  fish,  for  the  bonita  spared  nothing  that 
came  in  their  path. 

The  seven  albicore  cruised  in  company,  cap 
turing  what  small  surface  fish  accident  cast  in 
their  way,  but  all  the  time  they  held  a  general 
course  to  the  westward  and  northward  to  where 
the  coral  reefs  rose  from  the  bed  of  the  equatorial 
ocean.  Day  after  day  they  swam  steadily  on, 
the  young  albicore  leading.  Their  silvery 
bodies  grew  apace  and  their  backs  took  on  a  shift 
ing  blue  color,  so  that  looking  down  from  above, 
it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  them  from  the 
[208] 


KING    ALBICORE 

surrounding  blue  depths.  Sometimes  the  ugly 
and  noisy  bos'n-birds  would  swoop  down  as 
though  to  strike  them,  but  by  sinking  a  few  feet 
beneath  the  surface  the  albicore  easily  escaped. 
At  night  the  seven  swam  beneath  a  tropic  moon, 
and  as  they  went  their  courage  grew  rapidly  with 
their  size.  Unfortunately  they  approached  an 
unknown  peak  lying  below  the  surface  of  the 
great  ocean.  Here  they  were  chased  by  a  huge 
dolphin  who  haunted  the  vicinity.  Three  of 
their  number  fell  prey  to  him  before  they  could 
get  away.  A  week  or  two  later  the  remaining 
four  fell  in  with  a  roaming  pair  of  bonita.  Two 
more  went  the  way  of  the  weak. 

The  remaining  pair  of  albicore  now  cruised 
onward  together,  our  hero  leading  as  before, 
until  they  came  to  Tahiti,  in  the  South  Sea. 
Long  accustomed  to  danger  now,  they  ap 
proached  the  shore  warily,  their  tapering  bodies 
scarcely  disturbing  the  sea.  The  albicore  had 
grown  very  fast,  developing  during  these  weeks 
of  travel  into  powerful  fish.  The  teeth  of  the 
[209] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

male  leader  began  to  show  sharply  beyond  his 
lips.  He  was  growing  more  and  more  muscular, 
and  the  long  swim  was  hardening  him.  He  was 
sturdy  and  shrewd,  and  the  wild  instinctive  fear 
that  had  governed  his  younger  actions  now  gave 
place  to  a  feeling  of  confidence.  His  mate  had 
also  developed  into  a  strong  fish,  and  as  they 
swam  slowly  in  through  the  outer  breakers  of  the 
barrier  reef,  their  long,  sinuous  bodies  armed 
with  jaws  and  teeth  which  were  not  to  be  despised, 
smaller  fish  approached  to  welcome  them.  The 
albicore  received  them  coldly,  heading  straight 
into  the  sheltered  coves  of  coral,  where  they  would 
rest  from  their  long  run.  Here  they  stopped 
at  last  and  set  about  making  a  new  home. 

During  the  months  that  followed  the  albicore 
grew  several  feet  longer.  Our  leader  was  now 
nearly  six  feet  in  length,  with  his  long  jaws 
armed  with  razor-like  teeth,  his  tapering  flanks 
with  silvery  scales  covering  muscles  of  great 
hardness  and  power.  And  with  that  power  came 
a  consciousness  of  his  worth.  His  wild  life  and 
[210] 


KING    ALBICORE 

flight  made  him  careful  of  the  denizens  of  the 
coral  banks.  He  grew  cold  and  thoughtful 
until,  as  he  reached  his  final  development  phys 
ically,  he  was  a  dignified  and  quiet  fellow.  The 
smaller  sociable  fish  of  the  reef  did  not  under 
stand  him.  Theirs  was  a  life  of  ease  and  com 
parative  safety,  and  their  thoughts  seldom  went 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  outer  barrier. 
They  fussed  among  themselves  and  voted  the 
great  stranger  and  his  companion  surly  com 
pany.  The  inquisitive  little  sunfish  would 
sometimes  take  a  peep  in  at  the  cove  where  the 
albicorc  usually  lay  in  the  sunshine  on  bright 
afternoons,  but  there  was  something  in  the  great 
fish's  -manner  that  the  little  reefer  could  not  un 
derstand,  and  he  set  him  down  for  a  villain,  keep 
ing  at  a  distance  and  looking  askance  always  at 
those  ragged  teeth  that  peeped  out  from  the 
long,  sharp  jaws.  Even  the  mullet  were  warned, 
and  gave  the  albicore  a  wide  berth,  while  all  the 
time  he  lay  there  with  his  thoughts  far  away 
where  the  peaks  of  Juan  Fernandez  rose  from 
[211] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

the  sea.  He  was  indeed  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
place.  Finally  he  was  left  alone  with  his  mate. 

The  little  sociable  fish  were  heeded  not  at  all 
by  the  albicore.  He  went  to  the  reef  daily  and 
caught  what  small  game  he  wished.  His  digni 
fied  movements  were  even  watched  by  the  great 
ground  shark  who  lay  daily  under  the  shelter  of 
the  outer  barrier,  waiting  to  snap  up  any  unwary 
traveler  who  might  be  unfortunate  enough  to  be 
caught  in  the  rolling  surf  and  lose  control  of 
himself.  Once  only  did  the  shark  come  in  con 
tact  with  the  stranger.  It  was  when  the  albi 
core  had  been  rolled  shoreward  in  the  roaring 
surge.  The  lurking  monster  thought  it  a  good 
chance  to  strike.  He  received  a  savage  cut  over 
the  eye  that  left  him  somewhat  bewildered  and 
much  more  respectful  of  the  powerful  stranger's 
rights  in  the  vicinity. 

As   the   season   changed   and   the   trade-wind 

shifted  to  the  eastward,  bringing  with  it  little 

watery  clouds,  the  two  albicore  became  more  and 

more    restless.        The    future    king's    sensitive 

[212] 


KING    ALBICORE 

nature  became  more  and  more  imbued  with  the 
feeling  that  he  must  return  to  the  waters  of  his 
birth  to  take  his  place  among  those  of  his  kind. 
He  would  be  needed.  The  bonita  would  come 
again,  and  there  might  be  no  albicore  leader 
to  protect  those  who  had  escaped  their  last  as 
sault,  and  who  would  return  to  the  beautiful 
peaks  that  rose  from  the  sea  of  his  birth.  There 
was  a  feeling  within  him  that  he  must  be  there 
for  a  purpose.  He  was  something  more  than 
a  mere  cruising  pirate  of  the  reefs  of  the  South 
Pacific.  The  petty  life  of  little  sociable  fish  was 
not  for  such  as  he.  There  was  something  for 
him  to  do  before  he  died,  and  this  feeling  became 
stronger  and  stronger  until  one  rainy  morning 
he  started  out  accompanied  by  his  faithful  mate. 
He  was  now  at  the  fullness  of  his  powers,  a 
full-grown  albicore  of  the  southern  ocean.  All 
the  inheritance  of  the  race  of  giants  from  whom 
he  had  sprung  was  in  his  strong  frame  and  light 
ning-like  actions.  He  could  dart  so  swiftly  the 
eye  could  hardly  follow  his  form,  and  by  a  slight 
[213] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

swerve  upwards  he  could  spring  high  into  the 
air  above,  leaving  the  sea  ten  feet  or  more  below 
him,  and  then  with  head  pointed  gracefully 
downward,  he  would  plunge  into  the  blue  depths, 
slipping  his  long,  sinuous  body  so  easily  into  the 
unresisting  medium  that  there  would  be  hardly 
a  splash  to  mark  his  entrance.  There  were 
strength  and  grace  in  all  his  movements,  and  he 
was  as  bold  as  he  was  beautiful. 

The  speed  of  the  fastest  ship  was  slow  as  com 
pared  with  his  tremendous  pace,  so  although  he 
took  his  time  and  spent  several  days  hunting 
upon  the  surface  of  the  sea,  it  was  but  a  short 
run  for  him  to  Mas-a-fuera.  It  was  a  very  dif 
ferent  passage  from  the  one  made  when  as  a  little 
fellow  he  voyaged  out. 

The  high,  grim  cliffs  of  Mas-a-fuera  rise  a 
sheer  thousand  feet  on  the  north  side  of  the 
island,  and  the  wind  is  usually  southerly.  This 
makes  a  ponderous  lee,  the  only  sea  being  the 
heave  of  the  offshore  swell.  Many  denizens  of 
the  deep  ocean  come  in  here  td  rest  and  search 


FULL  INTO  THE  CENTRE  KING   ALBICOEE   TORE    HIS   WAY. 


KING    A  L  B  I  C  O  R  E 

for  food,  and  even  the  great  cachalot,  or  sperm- 
whale,  often  takes  a  quiet  cruise  through  the 
clear  depths  to  enjoy  the  stillness,  and  inciden 
tally  look  up  a  stray  octopus  or  cuttle  fish  who 
might  be  ensconed  within  some  ocean  cavern  in 
the  cliffs. 

It  was  toward  this  sheltered  lee-shore  our  albi- 
core  held  his  way.  Above  the  heights  the  huge 
pall  of  vapor  rose  as  in  his  younger  days,  stand 
ing  out  clearly  against  the  void  of  blue,  as 
sharply  outlined  as  a  heavy  cumulus  cloud. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  place.  He  felt  like 
a  sailor  who  had  made  a  long  voyage  and  had 
sighted  the  home  port  at  last. 

As  he  went  shoreward,  followed  by  his  mate, 
he  noticed  many  silvery  flashes  in  the  water  be 
tween  him  and  the  land.  Drawing  nearer  he 
saw  that  these  were  caused  by  countless  albicore. 
Soon  he  was  amid  a  throng  of  his  fellows  num 
bering  thousands,  all  making  their  way  toward 
the  sheltered  sea  in  the  lee  of  the  island.  With 
the  spirit  and  instinct  born  in  him  and  developed 
[215] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

by  his  roaming  life,  he  at  once  took  the  lead  of 
this  vast  school  and  led  them  slowly  in  to  the  sub 
merged  rocks  which  would  shelter  them  during 
their  stay.  Great  numbers  of  females,  heavy 
with  spawn,  straggled  from  the  flanks  of  the 
column,  but  he  swam  around  them,  forcing  them 
all  into  an  almost  solid  phalanx  of  moving  fish. 
The  memory  of  the  bonita  was  still  fresh 
within  him.  He  would  take  no  chances  with 
these  helpless  kindred.  They  seemed  to  recog 
nize  his  leadership  without  question,  and  fol 
lowed  quietly  wherever  he  led  the  way.  Now  and 
then  some  frisky  younger  member  of  the  horde 
would  make  a  sudden  start  to  sheer  away,  but 
with  a  rush  our  leader  was  upon  him,  and  he  was 
forced  back  again.  As  they  drew  near  the  island 
a  school  of  porpoises  made  a  dash  among  them. 
These  fellows  drove  the  more  timid  in  frantic 
throngs  until  our  leader  came  plunging  to  the 
rescue  followed  by  a  few  of  the  largest  and  bold 
est  of  the  school.  In  a  few  minutes  the  warm 
blooded  animals  had  received  some  severe  strokes 
[216] 


KING    ALBICORE 

from  the  razor-like  teeth  and  they  went  plunging 
seaward.  Then  the  mass  of  albicore  went  in 
and  took  possession  of  the  rocks,  the  smaller  fish 
fleeing  before  them. 

Here  at  last  our  hero  was  in  the  waters  he 
loved.  Game  was  plentiful  and  the  schools  of 
the  albicore  led  by  him  along  the  sunken  rocks 
found  it  easy  to  keep  supplied.  His  great  size, 
greater  than  even  the  largest  of  that  vast  host, 
made  his  leadership  unquestioned.  Everything 
stood  clear  of  his  rush  except  the  sullen  sharks, 
and  even  they  took  care  not  to  precipitate  trouble 
by  hanging  too  closely  about  the  rear  of  his 
foraging  parties  as  they  went  their  way  along 
the  shore. 

During  the  whole  season  the  albicore  hung 
about  the  reefs  of  Mas-a-fuera  and  Juan  Fer 
nandez  Island.  The  young  had  come  forth  and 
the  sheltered  places  inside  the  outer  breakers  were 
teeming  with  them.  Our  leader  had  driven  to 
sea  all  other  fish  who  were  at  all  antagonistic  to 
them,  and  peaceful  tranquillity  reigned.  Once 
[217] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

or  twice  a  growing  fellow,  who  had  reached  six 
feet  or  more  in  length,  wanted  to  try  conclusions 
with  the  leader,  but  he  soon  had  enough  after 
encountering  the  sharp  teeth,  and  took  his  place 
among  the  followers.  He  was  their  king.  A 
king  by  election  and  superiority,  he  led  them 
steadily  until  the  season  waned,  and  the  time  for 
the  bonita  to  strike  inshore  came  at  hand. 

As  this  time  drew  near  the  feeling  of  unrest  be 
gan  to  show  itself  among  the  school.  Stragglers 
began  to  leave  the  reef  and  seek  the  open  ocean 
with  the  .instinctive  longing  for  that  safety 
which  exists  there.  Our  king  watched  them  go 
by  pairs  and  sometimes  dozens,  but  he  made  no 
attempt  to  stop  them.  There  would  be  enough 
to  look  out  for  without  them,  and  they  could  well 
be  spared. 

Finally  the  time  came  for  the  general  move 
ment.  He  had  marshaled  the  great  host  of  albi- 
core  from  the  adjacent  reefs,  and  together  in  one 
vast  throng  they  left  for  open  ocean,  going  to 
the  northward  to  avoid  the  enemy  who  would 
[218] 


KING    ALBICORE 

attack  from  the  south  and  west.  The  bonita 
were  not  as  large  or  as  heavy  as  themselves  in 
dividually,  but  they  were  the  strongest  creatures 
of  their  size  in  the  ocean,  and  their  countless 
numbers  made  them  absolutely  fearless.  They 
would  attack  anything  that  stood  in  their  path, 
and  their  great  vitality  and  quickness  made  them 
the  most  dreaded  of  all  the  foraging  bands  of 
sea-wolves  which  roamed  the  South  Sea. 

The  solid  phalanx  of  albicore  started  offshore 
at  sunrise,  the  king  in  the  van  and  the  younger 
and  more  helpless  bringing  up  in  the  rear  of  the 
column ;  but  as  before  many  of  the  young  had 
been  overlooked  as  they  loitered  among  the  shel 
tered  places  in  the  rocks. 

The  head  of  the  moving  mass  was  a  full  mile 
from  shore  before  the  end  of  the  crowd  had  begun 
to  leave,  and  as  the  sun  shone  upon  the  calm 
ocean,  its  rays  struck  glancing  along  the  flanks 
of  thousands  of  moving  bodies,  making  the  water 
seem  like  shimmering  silver  as  the  light  flashed 
from  the  bright  scales.  There  was  no  wind  at 
[219] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

all,  and  far  away  to  the  westward  our  leader 
thought  he  saw  a  peculiar  disturbance  of  the  sea 
surface.  He  took  a  leap  into  the  air  to  get  a 
better  view  and  was  followed  by  many  of  his 
companions,  who  usually  imitated  his  example  in 
all  his  movements.  As  he  rose  in  the  sunshine 
his  glistening  armor  reflected  the  light  and  made 
him  visible  for  miles.  What  he  had  seen  upon 
the  western  skyline  was  enough.  As  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach  the  ocean  had  spurted  white  at 
his  plunge,  for  the  bonita  had  seen  him,  and  with 
a  front  of  several  miles  in  extent  they  were  plung 
ing  toward  the  band  of  albicore,  tearing  the 
calm  surface  to  foam  with  their  rush.  It  was  as 
though  some  mighty  explosion  had  taken  place 
and  spurted  the  sea  upward  in  little  jets  along 
the  front  of  a  sunken  reef,  for  the  bonita  acted 
almost  in  unison  in  spite  of  their  vast  numbers. 
They  were  now  in  full  charge. 

When  two  rapidly  moving  bodies,  of  almost 
equal  weight,  meet,  the  one  having  the  swifter 
movement  will  prevail.      King  Albicore  under- 
[220] 


KING    ALBICORE 

stood  this  principle  instinctively,  and  instantly 
darted  forward.  His  followers  joined  him,  and 
away  they  rushed  straight  for  the  line  of  break 
ing  water  which  drew  nearer  and  nearer  as  the 
moments  flew  by.  The  rear  of  the  column, 
finding  the  head  leaving  at  speed,  closed  up  the 
gap  and  came  onward  until  soon  the  entire  mass 
of  albicore  were  driving  headlong  to  the  west 
ward  as  fast  as  they  could  go. 

It  was  a  magnificent  sight  to  watch  those 
charging  columns.  A  million  bonita  charging  a 
hundred  thousand  albicore.  Nowhere  on  land 
could  such  vast  hosts  of  large  living  creatures 
marshal.  The  sea  was  ruffled  and  foamed  for 
miles  with  the  disturbance  of  the  fleeting  bodies, 
and  from  above  the  bos'n-birds  could  watch  the 
long  line  of  pointed  heads  making  the  ocean 
darken  with  a  huge  shadow  as  the  hordes 
rushed  onward. 

A  mile,  then  a  half — a  quarter,  and  still  the 
ruffling  lines  of  ocean  surface  seemed  to  draw 
nearer  with  undiminished  speed.  There  was  a 
[221  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

seeming  instant  of  quiet.  A  space  of  apparently 
unruffled  water.  And  then  they  met. 

Like  an  eruption  from  some  subterranean  cra 
ter  the  sea  sprung  upward.  The  long  lines  of 
pointed  heads  struck  together.  Bodies  flung 
high  in  the  air.  Tails,  heads,  quivering  sides 
streaming  from  ugly  gashes,  were  thrown  into 
the  sunlight,  and  then  upon  the  quiet  of  the 
morning  there  broke  a  deep,  dull,  moaning  roar 
of  immense  volume. 

Full  into  the  center  of  the  great  army  the 
king  albicore  tore  his  way.  Bonita  snapped 
and  flashed  upon  all  sides,  their  vigorous  bodies 
fairly  quivering  with  the  rapidity  of  their  move 
ments,  but  with  his  jaws  cutting  like  a  pair  of 
flying  shears,  he  held  his  way  while  his  sturdy 
followers  entered  behind  him  and  forced  the  gap. 
Into  this,  like  a  wedge,  pressed  the  body  of  the 
column,  cutting  and  fighting  with  incredible 
fury.  Comrades  fell  out  by  the  hundred, 
chopped  and  torn  by  the  bonita  who  surged  in 
upon  the  flanks,  but  the  great  mass  of  albicore 


KING    ALBICORE 

tore  its  way  through,  killing  everything  in  its 
path. 

Away  they  went  straight  ahead.  The  bonita 
fell  away  sullenly  from  the  solid  ranks,  and  in 
half  an  hour  the  last  albicore  had  gone  through 
the  gap  in  close  column,  leaving  the  sea  and  its 
scavengers  to  wipe  out  the  marks  of  their  pas 
sage.  There  was  no  changing  front  to  that 
horde.  The  course  was  straight  ahead.  It  was 
certain  death  to  be  left  behind. 

The  bonita  held  their  way  toward  the  reefs  of 
Mas-a-fuera  and  were  soon  out  of  sight  in  the 
East, 

But  King  Albicore,  what  of  him? 

With  flanks  cut  and  ripped  almost  to  ribbons 
he  stuck  at  the  head  of  the  column.  No  sheering 
this  way  or  that.  The  feeling  had  come  upon 
him  that  he  had  done  his  duty.  He  had  fulfilled 
his  mission.  He,  the  king,  had  led  his  com 
rades  to  victory,  and  he  must  pay  the  great  debt 
which  falls  to  all  sons  of  nature.  Silently  and 
steadily  he  went  along,  his  instinct  telling  him 
[223] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

his  time  had  come.  But  with  it  there  were  no 
regrets. 

He  had  done  all  he  could  for  his  kind,  and 
like  a  king  he  would  die. 

The  bright  sunshine  would  fade  and  the  blue 
water  would  disappear  forever.  They  would 
forget  him,  and  another  leader  would  take  his 
place.  But  he  knew  he  had  done  his  duty  and 
knew  he  had  done  it  well,  and  the  great  throng 
would  live  to  be  thankful  for  his  prowess. 

The  sunlight  seemed  to  be  fading  and  dark 
ness  appeared  to  be  coming  upon  the  ocean,  yet 
he  knew  it  was  not  quite  midday.  He  turned  to 
take  one  look  at  the  mighty  host  he  had  brought 
to  sea.  They  were  still  following  him  faith- 
fully. 

Then  the  light  went  out.  He  turned  upon  his 
side  and  sank  downward  through  the  blue  depths, 
while  the  albicore  held  their  way  to  the  coral  reefs 
of  the  South  Sea. 


[224] 


THE  NIBBLERS 

THE    "  Nibblers "    received   their   name 
from  Mr.  Keon,  second  officer  of  the 
steamship  Spitfire  of  the  Great  Ameri 
can  Fruit  Company's  line  running  to  the  tropics 
for  bananas.      The  family,  commonly  speaking, 
were  simply  ship's  rats,  but  Mr.  Keon  was  of  a 
romantic  and  discerning  turn  of  mind,  and  after 
making  their  acquaintance  he   christened  them 
comprehensively. 

To  Mr.  Keon  they  were  much  more  than  ordi 
nary  rats.  He-knew  the  whole  family  intimately 
from  old  Mrs.  Nibbler,  the  mother,  down  to  little 
Tiny,  the  smallest  and  most  timid  youngster  of 
the  lot,  and  to  be  known  by  the  second  officer 
was  a  privilege  not  granted  to  all  who  came 
aboard  the  fruit  ship.  He  was  a  man  who  pos 
sessed  an  enormous  fund  of  material  from  which 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

he  could  draw  without  effort  for  sea  stories,  and, 
according  to  many  authorities,  consequently 
possessed  a  large  amount  of  "  gray  matter  "  in 
his  head.  Whether  this  came  outside  in  the  form 
of  hair,  or  remained  inside  in  the  form  of  brains, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  inquire.  He  told  the 
story  of  "  The  Nibblers,"  sitting  one  night  on 
the  edge  of  the  forward  hatch  with  the  full 
tropic  moon  behind  him  and  the  soft  wind  of  the 
Florida  Stream  blowing  the  smoke  from  his  pipe 
away  to  leeward,  and  enough  of  it  was  remem 
bered  to  get  his  name  down  as  that  of  a  very  re 
markable  man. 

"  Ye  see,"  said  he,  after  we  had  been  watching 
the  antics  of  a  huge  rat  who  was  scampering 
around  the  edge  of  the  hatchway,  "  that  feller 
has  got  as  much  sense  as  you  have.  It's  ole 
Toby,  one  o'  the  old  fellers  what's  been  aboard 
this  vessel  since  she  carried  her  first  cargo.  He's 
a  most  uncommon  old  rat,  an'  that's  a  fact.  He's 
as  happy  an  ole  raskil  as  ever  haunted  a  ship's 
bilge,  an'  he  aint  afeared  o'  much.  I  seen  him 
[228] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

chase  a  cat  clean  into  the  galley  door  onct,  and 
he  would  ha'  got  her  but  fer  the  fool  '  doctor  ' 
heavin'  a  pan  at  him.  See  how  quick  he  kin 
jump.  Just  look  at  them  whiskers,  hey? 

"  I  remember  when  I  first  seen  him,  away  back 
in  the  eighties,  when  Captain  Jackson  took  com 
mand.  He  ware  a  young  feller  then  an'  the  cap 
tain's  wife  used  to  come  o'  evenings  an'  sit  on  the 
bridge  jest  over  this  forrad  hatch.  She  ware  a 
fine-lookin'  gal,  an'  that's  a  fact,  a  heap  finer- 
lookin'  than  the  ole  man.  He  warn't  nothin' 
much  fer  looks  anyway,  a  little  chap  with  a 
squint  an'  grizzled  whiskers  fer  all  the  world  like 
ole  Toby's  there,  but  he  ware  a  terrier  fer 
handlin'  canvas  in  the  ole  days.  I  seen  him  onct 
— but  no  matter,  that  aint  got  nothin'  to  do  with 
what  I'm  goin'  to  tell  ye. 

"  Ye  see,  the  gal  was  mighty  pretty.  I  don't 
know  as  I  ever  seen  a  woman  as  good-lookin'.  She 
had  golden  hair,  an'  eyes  as  soft  an'  blue 

"  Go    on    with    the    yarn,"    interrupted    the 
bos'n ;  "  we'll  let  the  girl  go." 
[229  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

Keon  smoked  on  in  silence  after  this  as  though 
he  had  taken  offense,  but  we  soon  saw  by  the  look 
of  his  eyes  that  he  was  far  away  from  that  fore 
hatch. 

"  The  second  mate  used  to  sit  right  here,"  he 
went  on  at  last,  "  an'  she  would  look  over  the 
bridge  rail  on  fine  evenings  an'  watch  the  Nib- 
biers  goin'  an'  comin'  around  this  hole.  Rats 
is  like  all  other  animals,  includin'  humans,  in 
respects  to  selections,  an'  the  way  these  fellows 
would  fight  an'  scrap  fer  each  other  was  some- 
thin'  funny  to  see.  The  biggest  an'  strongest 
rat  would  knock  the  other  out  an'  take  up  with 
one  o'  the  young  an'  frivolous  females,  jest  like 
it  occurs  in  story  books.  He  was  the  hero,  big 
an'  strong  an'  fine-lookin',  an'  o'  course  the  gal 
rat  would  care  fer  him  like  females  care  fer  all 
heroes.  He  was  supposed  to  have  all  the  fine 
qualities  o'  rat  in  his  make-up,  jest  like  a  hero 
has,  an'  the  way  he  would  go  a-scamperin'  around 
after  some  little  feller  who  wasn't  strong  enough 
to  stand  to  him  was  funny  to  see.  The  captain's 
[230] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

wife  used  to  come  to  the  rail  an'  look  down  an' 
watch  them  fer  hours,  an'  laugh  an'  laugh  when 
some  fellow  like  big  Toby  there  would  put  the 
rest  out  the  way,  an'  the  second  mate  he  would  sit 
there  close  by  durin'  the  dog-watch,  an'  watch, 
too,  but  he  warn't  always  lookin'  at  the  rats. 
Then  when  he  had  to  go  on  the  bridge  he  had  to 
meet  that  queer  little  captain  who  waren't  no 
bigger'n  a  good-sized  mouse.  He  didn't  reach 
much  more'n  up  to  the  second  mate's  shoulder. 
Sometimes  the  young  woman  looked  hard  at  the 
two  when  they  were  together,  an'  the  skipper 
would  get  nervous,  fer  he  thought  a  lot  o'  her — 
an'  so  did  the  second  mate.  The  men  f  orrads  used 
to  notice  a  thing  or  two,  an'  they  called  the  skip 
per  '  Squeak  Jackson,'  he  was  so  little  an'  small 
in  his  voice.  But  he  kept  his  temper  an'  never 
let  on  as  to  what  he  thought  o'  his  size,  fer  he 
had  been  a  good  one. 

"  Ye    see,    rats    don't    have    no    consciences. 
That's  where  they  differs  with  humans.     Fools 
don't  have  none  to  speak  on,  but  sometimes  there 
[231  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

comes  a  time  to  most  men  when  they  wonders 
what  about  the  little  feller  what  gets  licked.  It's 
all  right  in  stories  o'  love,  and  no  one  bothers  at 
the  time  about  the  weaklin'  who  can't  hold  his 
own,  but  really  when  it  comes  down  to  hard  fact 
without  all  the  romance  o'  women  in  it,  there's 
somethin'  sorrowful  about  the  poor  feller  who 
can't  hold  his  way  agin  the  stronger  one.  He 
aint  done  nothin'  wrong  in  bein'  weak,  an'  he 
was  born  that  way,  so  why  blame  him  fer  it? 
Sometimes  it  seems  as  if  the  world  was  wrong, 
always  goin'  sides  with  the  fine,  handsome  hero 
o'  the  affair  who  can  drive  off  the  weaklin'  an* 
rescue  the  female.  What  about  the  feller  who 
was  born  weak  an'  small,  aint  he  got  no  feelin's? 
But  nobody  cares  a  rap  fer  him.  It's  nature. 
It  shows  humans  are  mostly  animals,  an'  as  fer 
me  I  sometimes  feel  I  lost  somethin'  by  not  bein' 
born  a  rat. 

"  Ye  see,  the  Spitfire  was  in  the  banana  trade 
then.    Bananas  are  the  devil  to  carry  if  they  get 
ripe  on  you,  and  get  switchin'  around  below.     I 
[232] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

seen  the  banana  slush  four  feet  deep  in  the  lower 
hold,  an'  ye  know  banana  juice  is  about  as  acid 
as  anythin'  goin',  an'  it  cuts  iron  into  holes  an* 
pits  quicker'n  you  can  tell  o'  it.  Ye  got  to  be 
mighty  careful  cleanin'  a  banana  ship's  bilge  if 
you  don't  want  her  to  get  pitted,  an'  her  bottom 
like  a  piece  o'  blottin'  paper  soft  enough  to  poke 
yer  foot  through  with  a  kick.  It  takes  a  man 
who  knows  how  to  take  care  o'  a  banana  ship  to 
keep  her  up ! 

"  I  don't  know  how  rats  come  to  be  in  ships, 
but  they  come  by  the  hundreds.  Mebbe  they 
come  in  the  fruit,  or  stores.  Anyways,  there 
they  be,  an'  there's  no  way  to  git  rid  o' 
them. 

"  Ye  see,  there  has  to  be  a  ceiling  of  wood  in 
an  iron  ship  to  keep  the  fruit  off'n  the  plates,  an' 
it's  in  atween  this  that  the  little  critters  git. 
They  aint  no  more  like  a  shore  rat  than  you  are. 
They  are  all  sailors,  every  one  o'  them,  an'  they 
stan'  their  watches  same  as  you  an'  me.  You 
see  these  fellers  running  around  here  now,  but 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

there's  a  lot  more  below  that  won't  come  on  deck 
until  I  go  below.  Toby  there  is  in  my  watch, 
an'  I  feed  him.  Them  that  aint  in  my  watch 
won't  come  out  till  the  bell  strikes,  an'  then  they 
peep  up,  an'  if  they  see  the  mate  out  they  come 
on  deck  an'  look  fer  the  grub  some  fellers  in  his 
watch  fetches  up  now  an'  then. 

"  But  what  I  was  tellin'  was  this.  We  took 
aboard  a  lot  o'  fresh  ones  down  to  Montego  Bay, 
an'  among  'em  was  that  old  fat  female  rat  ye 
see  there  sittin'  on  the  edge  o'  the  coamin'.  She's 
the  mother  o'  half  a  hundred  now,  but  when  she 
first  come  aboard  she  was  a  young  an'  frisky  rat 
as  ever  you  see.  She'd  been  aboard  a  week  or 
two  afore  I  noticed  her,  but  on  the  way  south 
again,  one  night  when  we  struck  into  the  warm 
water,  I  noticed  her  come  on  deck  with  a  lot 
more.  It  was  just  such  a  night  as  this  an'  the 
little  skipper  an'  his  wife  were  on  the  bridge  a- 
lookin'  down  at  the  black  hole  o'  the  fore  hatch. 
Soon  the  gal  made  out  the  rats  a-runnin'  an' 
jumpin'  around  the  opening  an'  the  second  mate 
[234] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

sat  there  waitin'  fer  the  bells  to  strike  afore  he 
went  on  watch. 

"  That  ole  rat  was  skippin'  away  from  a  whole 
crowd  o'  young  rats  what  was  a-followin'  her 
around,  an'  that  big  Toby  there  he  was  gettin' 
sort  o'  interested.  He  was  a  young  rat  then, 
ye  see,  an'  he  looked  on  sort  o'  solemn  like  fer 
a  while  an'  let  'em  skip  around,  but  I  seen  that 
he  wasn't  goin'  to  stand  still  long.  Suddenly 
he  gave  a  squeak.  Then  the  frolickin'  stopped 
sudden  like  an'  Toby  come  forrads. 

"  Well,  sir,  yau  may  not  believe  it,  but  he  went 
straight  up  to  that  handsome  young  female  an' 
said  '  How  d'ye  do  '  as  plain  as  ye  please.  I  don't 
mean  to  say  he  spoke,  but  that  was  his  action, 
an'  no  mistaking  fer  the  pair  stood  nose  to  nose 
fer  the  space  o'  half  a  minute.  Then  they  went 
off  together  to  another  part  o'  the  deck,  an'  ye 
ought  to  seen  how  them  other  young  rats  took  it. 
It  was  comical  an'  that's  a  fact.  He  had  done 
the  polite  to  that  female  rat  an'  was  gettin'  along 
handsome'  an'  the  gal  above  was  laughin'  at  it, 
[235] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

while  the  skipper  walked  athwartships  an'  took 
no  notice. 

"  Toby  hadn't  been  more'n  two  minutes  with 
his  fair  one  when  up  comes  a  sassy-lookin'  rat, 
about  as  big  as  a  kitten.  He  was  lookin'  fer 
trouble,  that  rat,  fer  he  jest  walked  right  up  an' 
lit  into  Toby  without  waitin'  fer  further  orders. 
Sink  me,  if  that  weren't  a  scrap.  Ye  never 
would  think  them  little  critters  would  take  on  so. 
A  pair  o'  bulldogs  warn't  in  it  with  them  rats, 
an'  the  rest  all  crowded  around,  comin'  up 
slowly,  an'  lookin'  to  see  which  one  would  do  fer 
the  other. 

"  Well,  sir,  the  second  mate  sat  still  lookin' 
on,  an'  the  gal  was  lookin'  down  from  above  over 
the  bridge  rail.  The  night  was  bright  enough 
fer  to  see  things  pretty  well  on  deck,  an'  the  gal's 
eyes  showed  interest.  It  was  the  same  old  story, 
the  choosin'  o'  the  hero,  only  they  was  rats,  an' 
there  wasn't  no  doubt  that  we  wanted  the  best 
one  to  win :  him  that  was  the  biggest  an'  strong 
est  an'  best-lookin'. 

[236] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

"  It's  been  a  long  time  ago  now,  but  ye  would 
think  that  ole  rat  would  still  have  the  marks  o' 
that  fight  on  him,  an'  mebbe  he  has.  They 
grabbed  at  each  other  with  them  long  teeth,  an' 
I  tell  you  they  made  the  fur  fly  fer  a  few  minutes. 
The  sassy  big  rat  made  a  pass  an'  grabbed  Toby 
by  the  leg,  an'  sech  a  squealin'  ye  never  heard. 
But  that  female  rat  sat  quiet,  an'  jest  kept 
lookin'  on,  waitin'  fer  the  finish.  Toby  saw  he 
was  in  a  bad  fix.  He  was  gettin'  the  worst  o'  the 
fight,  fer  that  rat  had  him  fast  enough  by  the 
hind  leg.  It  was  up  an'  down  an'  all  over  the 
deck  forrads,  the  old  fellow  squealin'  an'  bitin', 
an'  that  sassy-lookin'  rat  jest  holdin'  on  fer  fur 
ther  orders.  It  looked  blue  fer  Toby  an'  he  seen 
somethin'  must  be  done  sudden  if  he  wanted  that 
fine  female  rat  fer  a  side  pardner  down  in  the 
bilge.  He  stopped  his  squealin'  an'  was  quiet 
fer  a  minute,  thinkin'  an'  tryin'  to  plan  out  some 
kind  o'  game  fer  to  git  away  an'  get  his  grip  on 
that  sassy  rat  that  was  slowly  sawin'  his  leg  off. 
All  to  onct  he  give  a  jerk.  Then  he  bent  his 
[237  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

body  double  an'  rolled  on  his  back  like  a  ball. 
That  brought  his  enemy  up  alongside  him  an' 
the  next  minute  he  was  fast  to  him  amid 
ships,  gettin'  a  good  grip  o'  the  feller's 
belly. 

"  I  tell  you  he  must  have  pinched  right  hard. 
That  sassy-lookin'  rat  couldn't  stand  the  bite,  an' 
let  go  the  leg  grip  he  had,  squealin'  an'  twistin' 
to  get  away.  But  no  sirree.  Old  Toby  had  him 
fer  sure  this  time,  an'  he  jest  settled  right  down 
to  business,  shakin'  an'  pullin',  fer  there  aint 
nothin'  a  rat  kin  stand  less  than  a  good  shakin'. 
Pretty  soon  the  feller  began  to  give  up  an'  try 
to  get  away,  squealin'  a  different  sort  o'  squeal 
from  the  sassy  squeal  he  began  with. 

"  Then  Toby  goes  fer  him  harder  than  ever, 
but  jest  as  he  was  try  in'  to  get  a  new  hold,  the 
fellow  up  an'  bolts  fer  the  open  hatchway,  an' 
the  fight  was  over.  Then  all  hands  scrambled 
below,  an'  Toby  walks  right  up  to  the  fine  female 
rat  what  was  waitin'  fer  him  an'  they  goes  off  to 
gether.  Then  the  gal  on  the  bridge  laughs  right 
[238] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

out  an'  says  '  Bully  boy,'  an'  the  second  mate 
looks  up  an'  sees  the  look  in  her  eyes,  an' — well, 
I  dunno,  after  that  they  used  to  come  together 
somehow  until  the  skipper  speaks  up  one  day  an' 
asks  the  second  mate  his  business. 

"  '  Ye  seem  to  have  too  much  to  do,'  says  he 
one  evenin'  to  the  second  mate,  *  an'  if  I  was  you 
I'd  keep  more  by  meself,  or  mebbe  I'll  take  ye 
in  hand  a  bit.' 

"  That  second  mate  was  thinkin'  o'  them  rats, 
an'  speaks  up :  *  You  kin  try  yer  hand  when  we 
gets  in  port.  I'm  an  officer  here  an'  can't  get  no 
show,  but  on  the  beach  I'll  take  yer  skin  or  I'm 
a  soger,'  says  he. 

"  An'  so  the  captain  •  was  too  proud  to  take 
advantage  o'  his  position,  an'  waits  until  the 
vessel  was  in  at  Port  Antonio.  Then  he  steps 
ashore  an'  tells  the  second  mate  to  follow  him  an' 
take  a  lickin'. 

"  Well,  sir,  there  aint  no  use  tellin'  how  that 
fight  come  off.  It  took  three  hours  to  put  that 
dinky  little  skipper  temporarily  to  sleep,  an'  the 
[239] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

fellers  what  seen  the  scrap  tells  a  thing  or 
two  about  it, — but  they  was  only  niggers  an' 
didn't  count.  Anyways,  the  second  mate  was  as 
well  pounded  as  a  beefsteak,  but  he  was  a  hero, 
an'  that's  a  fact.  He  was  a  pretty  good  sort  o' 
man,  an'  some  says  he  was  fairly  good-lookin'. 
Anyways,  he  was  way  ahead  in  looks  o'  that 
dinky  little  skipper,  an'  the  gal,  I  believe, 
thought  so  too.  Yessir,  it  ware  the  same  ole 
story  o'  choosin'  the  hero  over  again,  jest  like 
it  takes  place  in  story  books — only  a  bit  differ 
ent,  fer  the  gal  was  already  married  in  this  case, 
an'  sech  doin's  never  is  printed  except  in  papers. 
But  that  second  mate,  he  ware  the  hero  jest  the 
same. 

"  When  the  Spitfire  went  to  sea  again  there 
was  a  mighty  quiet  sort  o'  skipper  aboard,  an' 
a  second  mate  who  was  a-lookin'  out  fer  squalls. 
There  was  evidently  goin'  to  be  a  change  aboard 
at  the  end  of  the  passage.  But  all  the  time  that 
gal  she  jest  kept  to  herself,  an'  by  the  look  o' 
her  eyes  she  ware  tellin'  the  second  mate  plainer 
[240] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

'n  mud  that  he  ware  the  man  fer  her.  The  dinky 
little  skipper  could  see  it  too. 

"  The  night  she  went  to  sea  the  second  mate 
was  sittin'  on  the  edge  o'  the  hatchway  here  as 
usual  when  it  come  on  eight  bells,  an'  he  seen  all 
that  new  load  o'  rats  a-gettin'  ashore  fast.  It 
aint  no  good  sign  to  see  rats  gettin'  out  o'  a  ship. 
They  generally  leave  afore  she  goes  down,  an' 
when  the  second  mate  seen  them  a-goin'  ashore 
he  was  fer  followin'  them.  Then  he  thinks  o' 
that  gal  again  an'  stays,  fer  you  may  not  believe 
it,  but  ole  Toby,  there,  an'  his  mate  wouldn't  go 
ashore.  They  stays  on  deck  at  the  last  minute 
when  the  second  officer  was  gettin'  ready  to  clear 
an'  when  he  seen  it  he  says  he'd  stay  too.  It  sort 
o'  put  him  in  mind  o'  hisself . 

"  It  began  to  come  on  to  blow  the  day  after 
we  passed  Cape  Maysi.  Ye  know  how  it  is  in 
the  windward  passage,  so  it  didn't  bother  us 
much.  But  along  about  dark  the  glass  began  to 
drop  sudden  like,  until  it  got  down  about  three 
marks  below  where  it  ought  to  stayed.  The  air 
[241  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

was  warm  an'  sultry  comin'  hot  from  the  s'uth- 
ard.  The  haze  what  comes  with  the  hurricane 
was  raisin'  plain  in  sight,  an'  the  dinky  little 
skipper  puts  her  head  to  the  east'ard  to  clear  the 
center,  fer  it  ware  jest  in  our  wake. 

"  I  seen  it  blow  before,  but  sink  me  if  ever  it 
blew  anywhere's  like  that.  The  sea  ware  jest 
a  roarin'  hill  leapin'  up  with  a  cross  heave  in  it, 
an'  the  air  was  like  a  solid  wall  when  it  struck. 
No,  sir,  ye  couldn't  stand  on  the  bridge.  It 
would  have  picked  ye  up  bodily  an'  hove  ye  over 
board.  The  roar  ware  deafenin',  an'  we  hove 
her  to  on  the  starboard  tack  to  work  clear,  an' 
jest  then,  by  some  luck  or  other,  she  waded  right 
into  the  center  o'  that  whirl  where  the  seas  ware 
jest  standin'  right  up  on  end. 

"  Ye  can't  do  nothin'  with  a  ship  caught  in 
the  center  of  one  o'  them  circular  storms.  It 
blows  in  sech  squalls  that  there  aint  no  way  a 
tellin'  which  way  it's  comin',  only  it  comes  with 
sech  a  mighty  weight  that  no  ship  kin  stan'  to 
it.  An'  the  sea  falls  down  on  ye  from  any- 


THE    NIBBLERS 

where  at  all  till  the  decks  are  under  tons  o'  water, 
an'  everythin'  gone  to  the  devil  stove  up. 

"  The  Spitfire  ware  knocked  over  in  one  o'  the 
rushes  o'  hot  wind  that  ripped  the  funnel  out  o' 
her.  Then  an  almighty  sea  broke  right  amid 
ships  an'  tore  the  side  o'  the  house  away  an' 
flooded  the  engine  room.  It  ware  lookin'  kind 
o'  bad  fer  us,  an'  when  the  engineer  come  on  deck 
half  drowned,  an'  said  the  engine  ware  done  fer 
an'  the  water  a-comin'  in  about  two  feet  at  a 
jump,  we  made  up  our  minds  the  ole  ship  ware 
done  fer,  an'  the  best  thing  ware  to  get  clear  as 
soon  as  we  could. 

"  But  no  small  boat  could  have  lived  in  that 
sea  a  minute.  There  wasn't  anything  to  do  but 
wait  until  the  gale  wore  down,  which  it  did  after 
about  three  hours  of  the  heaviest  blowin'  I  ever 
seen.  Then  she  eased  up  an'  the  ole  ship  was 
jest  decks  out  in  a  sea  what  would  make  yer  hair 
white  to  look  at. 

"  We  made  a  lee  o'  the  side  an'  lowered  down 
the  boats  before  daybreak,  that  dinky  little  skip- 
[243] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

per  jest  a-standin'  an'  lookin'  on  an'  never  a- 
sayin'  a  word. 

"  The  first  officer  he  takes  the  first  boat  what 
swings  clear,  an'  then  the  gal  she  looks  down  at 
the  second  mate.  He  puts  her  in  the  next  boat 
an'  they  lower  it  down  an'  they  scramble  to  get  in, 
fer  the  ship  is  wallowin'  in  that  nasty  sea  an'  feels 
dead.  Some  fool  fumbles  the  tackle  an'  nearly 
capsized  the  craft,  but  the  second  mate  he  grabs 
the  line  in  time  to  save  it  an'  she  goes  clear.  The 
men  rush  to  find  places,  an'  then  the  second  mate 
stan's  there  alone  with  that  dinky  little  skipper, 
who  hasn't  spoken  or  moved  from  the  chart- 
house  door. 

"  It's  all  mighty  plain.  The  fellers  from  be 
low,  white  with  scare  an'  tremblin'  as  they  grab 
the  ship's  sides.  Some  pushes  the  others  an'  then 
they  curse  and  swear  to  kill  each  other  when 
there  aint  enough  breath  in  them  to  speak  out 
loud. 

"  '  Be  ye  a-goin'  in  that  boat,  sir?  '  says  the 
second  mate  to  his  captain. 
[244] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

"  '  Go  an'  be  d d,'  says  the  dinky  little 

skipper. 

"  An'  the  second  officer  jumps  in  an'  the 
painter  is  cast  off.  Then  the  little  skipper  stan's 
out  an'  watches  them  slowly  go  away — watches 
them  drawin'  off  further  an'  further,  an'  his 
eyes  is  on  the  gal  in  the  boat,  an'  his  hands  is 
folded  on  his  breast.  That's  the  last  they  sees 
o'  him  as  he  stands  there  with  the  risin'  sun  a- 
shinin'  on  him  an'  the  blue  sea  washin'  nigh  up 
to  the  ole  hooker's  deck. 

"  Fer  seven  days  an'  nights  the  fellers  in  that 
boat  has  a  time  with  it.  Then  there  comes  a 
ship  bound  in  an'  takes  'em  aboard,  an'  in  a  few 
days  they  finds  themselves  in  New  York,  the 
second  mate  an'  the  gal  hardly  speakin'. 

"  When  they  comes  ashore  the  first  man  the  gal 
sees  is  that  dinky  little  skipper  a-waitin'  there  on 
the  dock,  jest  as  natural  an'  chipper  as  if  he 
wasn't  the  ugliest  skipper  ever  in  a  decent  ship. 
An'  funniest  of  all  she  jest  naturally  goes  an' 
flings  herself  at  him  like  a  dolphin  at  a  bait, 
[245  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

landin'  right  in  his  arms.  Fer,  ye  see,  that  old 
hooker  Spitfire  warn't  so  badly  used  up  as  the 
engineer  thought,  an'  when  the  sea  went  down 
she  didn't  make  no  more  water  to  speak  of.  The 
next  mornin'  a  vessel  comes  along  an'  lends  a 
hand  to  the  dinky  little  feller  aboard,  an'  pretty 
soon  the  engine  is  a-goin'  an'  the  ole  ship  is 
headin'  away  on  her  course  with  one  o'  the  com 
pany's  ships  alongside  to  see  her  through. 
There  aint  no  salvage  to  pay,  an'  all  is  taut  as 
a  gantline." 

Here  Mr.  Keon  stopped  and  knocked  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe.  The  great  rat  he  called  Toby 
scampered  down  the  hatchway  as  the  bells  struck 
off,  warning  us  that  the  first  watch  was  at 
hand. 

"  What  became  of  the  little  captain  ?  "  asked 
the  bos'n. 

"  Oh,  that  little  feller  got  the  finest  ship  in  the 
company's  fleet.  He's  commodore  now,  ye  see," 
said  the  second  mate,  "  an'  we  got  '  Peepin' 
Shaw  '  in  his  place." 

[246] 


THE    NIBBLERS 

"  Did  they  discharge  the  officers  that  de 
serted?  "  asked  a  sailor. 

Mr.  Keon  looked  sorrowfully  at  him  and  rose 
from  the  hatchway.  Then  he  stopped  a  moment 
and  fumbled  his  pipe. 

"  D'ye  think  second  officers  sech  as  me  are 
plentiful  abouts,  hey?  "  he  asked. 

He  was  a  powerfully  built  man  and  showed  to 
some  advantage  in  his  working  clothes  of  light 
duck. 

"  Second  mates  sech  as  me  aint  to  be  picked 
up  everywhere,  ye  might  know,  an'  this  ship  has 
never  had  but  one  since  she  was  launched,"  and 
he  went  on  the  bridge  for  his  watch  on  deck. 


[247] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

IN  the  middle  of  the  South  Atlantic  Ocean, 
about  six  hundred  miles  to  the  eastward  of 
Cape  St.  Roque,  rises  the  peculiar  peak 
called  the  St.  Paul's  Rock.  It  is  some  sixty  feet 
above  the  sea  level,  and  is  a  ragged  granite  point. 
Within  a  cable's  length  of  it  the  bottom  appar 
ently  falls  out  of  the  ocean,  for  it  takes  nearly 
three  miles  of  piano  wire  with  an  enormous  deep- 
sea  lead  attached  to  find  the  half -liquid  ooze  be 
low.  If  the  blue  water  were  suddenly  to  subside 
the  tiny  point  of  the  St.  Paul's  would  present  a 
different  appearance.  It  would  then  be  the  high 
est  pinnacle  of  a  most  colossal  mountain. 

It  is  on  the  edge  of  the  calm  belt,  close  to  the 

equator,   and   the   blue   depths   surrounding   its 

huge  flanks  are  seldom,  if  ever,  disturbed  by  a 

storm.      Only    the    steady    trade    swell    rolling 

[251  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

gently  in  upon  its  sides  forms  a  white  ring  about 
it,  and  the  dull  roar  of  the  southern  ocean  is  but 
a  low  monotonous  thunder  that  would  hardly 
frighten  the  timid  flying  fish. 

Besides  this  there  is  nothing  save  the  occa 
sional  snore  of  a  sea  breaking  over  a  submerged 
peak  to  disturb  the  silence;  for  here  desolation 
and  loneliness  reign  supreme.  It  is  as  though  a 
bit  of  the  Great  Silence  of  the  ocean  bed  were 
raised  up  to  be  burned  in  the  glare  of  the  torrid 
sunshine,  and  fanned  by  the  breath  of  the  un 
ending  trade  wind. 

But,  if  the  peak  is  devoid  of  life,  a  look  into 
the  beautiful  blue  abyss  alongside  shows  a  differ 
ent  state.  All  kinds  of  shell-fish  inhabit  the 
hospitable  caverns  beneath,  and  fish  can  be  seen 
darting  here  and  there  through  the  bunches  of 
seaweed.  The  busy  coral  works  steadfastly  at 
his  never-ending  toil.  The  sea-crabs,  star-fish, 
and  their  myriad  brethren  are  all  visible. 

Sometimes  a  couple  of  albicore  will  dart  past 
below  the  surface,  or  a  flash  of  white  reveal  the 
[252  ] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

quick  strike  of  a  dolphin,  followed  instantly  by 
a  shower  of  glittering  gems  that  break  from  the 
surface  and  scatter, — the  flying  fish  that  have 
escaped  those  rapid  jaws. 

Then  a  huge  dark  shadow  will  rise  slowly  out 
of  the  blue  invisibility  below,  and  all  the  smaller 
fish  will  disappear.  The  shadow  will  take  form, 
and  will  be  that  of  an  old  shark  lazily  policing 
the  rocks  for  pieces  of  the  game  that  are  de 
serted.  He  is  a  large  brute,  but  in  spite  of  his 
enormous  fins  and  tail  he  is  quite  willing  that 
others  shall  do  his  work  of  the  chase  for  him. 

If  there  happens  to  be  an  injured  fish  near, 
the  great  tail  will  give  one  or  two  powerful 
strokes,  and  chop  !  Those  jaws,  armed  with  half 
a  dozen  rows  of  sawlike  teeth,  with  the  points  of 
those  above  fitting  into  the  spaces  between  those 
below,  seldom  have  to  strike  twice. 

The  first  motion  upon  the  part  of  the  monster 

is  a  signal  which  produces  a  strange  effect.     No 

sooner  has  he  bolted  the   game  than  from  all 

around    rise    dark-brown    and    gray    shadows. 

[253] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

These  congregate  about  him,  and  he  lazily  swims 
away,  leaving  probably  half  a  hundred  of  his  re 
lations  to  search  the  clear  depths  for  what  might 
be  left. 

And  such  relatives!  One  has  a  head  half  a 
fathom  wide,  his  eyes  peering  wickedly  from  the 
curving  sides  of  his  shovel-like  nose.  Another 
has  stripes  like  those  of  the  tiger  on  land,  and  is 
hardly  less  ugly  in  disposition.  Let  the  old  fel 
low  who  first  tackled  the  game  get  a  slit  in  his 
hide  and  the  striped  fellow  see  it.  He  will  find 
his  affectionate  relative's  knowledge  of  the  fact 
announced  by  a  sudden  chop.  Then  there  will  be 
a  general  mix-up,  and  if  he  is  still  active  and 
strong  enough  he  may  live  to  dine  upon  the  un 
sympathetic  cousin.  But  more  than  likely  the 
cousin  will  be  re-enforced  by  a  host  of  hungry 
comrades,  whose  ideas  of  fair  play  are  somewhat 
biased  by  an  uncontrollable  appetite  for  any 
thing  nutritious.  If  this  is  the  case  he  will  ap 
parently  melt  into  that  beautiful  blue  void  about 
him,  leaving  but  a  slight  stain  which  will  soon 
[254] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

disappear.  It  was  here  in  these  abodes  of  the 
genus  carcharodon  that  our  hero  was  born. 

He  was  one  of  a  school  of  six  when  he  first  saw 
the  light,  and  his  five  brothers  and  sisters  were  so 
like  him  that  the  great  mother  shark  could  hardly 
tell  them  apart.  When  she  opened  her  enormous 
mouth  one  day  to  receive  them  and  give  them 
shelter  while  a  desperate  sword-fish  swung  his 
weapon  in  her  face,  she  made  a  miscount  when 
shutting  her  jaws,  and  one  belated  little  fellow 
was  quickly  swallowed  by  the  insolent  enemy. 
The  mother  made  a  dash  and  chopped  off  a 
piece  of  the  sword-fish's  tail  as  he  fled  before  her 
wrath,  but  he  escaped  in  spite  of  this. 

During  his  babyhood  Johnny  Shark  had  many 
trials.  There  were  the  hideous  little  pilot  fish  to 
deal  with.  They  were  always  following  him 
around  trying  to  rob  him  of  his  rights.  Then 
his  brothers  also  lacked  in  unselfishness,  and  he 
fought  them,  one  and  all,  from  the  beginning, 
until  his  disposition  became  somewhat  combative. 

During  this  period  of  his  life  his  skin  was  of  a 
[255] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

most  beautiful  velvety  gray,  shading  to  white 
on  his  belly.  His  hard  bony  lips  formed  a  sheath 
for  his  cutters,  and  they  fitted  in  behind  them 
as  snug  as  a  sword  in  a  scabbard.  They  were 
very  small,  but  the  same  shape  as  his  mother's 
triangles,  and  he  could  work  them  on  their  bases 
as  though  hinged  in  his  jaws.  He  was  but  little 
more  than  a  foot  in  length,  and  he  kept  close  to 
his  mother's  side,  ready  to  shelter  should  a 
fierce  albicore  or  any  of  the  giant  mackerel  tribe 
take  a  notion  that  he  would  make  a  good  meal. 

And  yet  he  could  venture  deep  in  the  shadow 
of  the  mountain  defiles,  where  in  some  of  the  huge 
caverns  gigantic,  many-armed  monsters,  with 
huge  beaks  and  eyes  a  foot  in  diameter,  lay  wait 
ing,  seizing  whatever  unfortunate  fish  happened 
within  the  sweep  of  their  snaky  tentacles.  In 
fact  all  around  him  was  an  eternal  war.  Every 
thing  seemed  to  be  fighting  with  everything  else 
and  only  the  luckiest  and  most  powerful  beings 
seemed  to  last  many  changes  of  the  moon. 

As  for  his  brothers  and  sisters  they  were  like 
[256] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

himself,  keeping  close  to  his  mother,  and  ready 
for  a  refuge  within  her  huge  jaws  at  the  first 
sign  of  an  approaching  enemy. 

As  he  grew  slowly  he  began  to  develop  a  wan 
dering  spirit.  He  would  leave  the  protecting 
shadow  of  his  mother  when  she  would  float  lazily 
upon  the  surface,  and  explore  the  ragged  fringe 
of  foam  to  see  what  might  be  had  in  the  way  of 
diversion.  Once  a  great  bonita  made  a  dash  at 
him,  but  he  saw  him  coming  in  time,  and  turn 
ing  he  chopped  him  savagely.  The  taste  of 
blood  seemed  to  invigorate  him,  for  he  hung 
fiercely  upon  his  now  fleeing  enemy  until  he  tore 
away,  leaving  a  mouthful  of  himself  in  the 
tightly  locked  jaws.  He  was  too  lazy  to  follow 
up  his  victory.  A  fat  porpoise  chased  his 
wounded  assailant  until  he  conquered  him  and 
made  him  his  meal. 

In  fact,  he  seldom  cared  for  violent  exercise, 
and  could  hardly  understand  the  foolish  sav 
agery  of  some  of  the  warmer-blooded  denizens 
about  him.  When  he  fought  he  generally  made 
[257] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

a  sure  thing  of  it.  He  would  take  no  chances 
where  a  wound  or  exhaustion  meant  certain 
death.  There  were  plenty  of  small  rockfish 
that  were  too  stupid  to  run  when  he  approached, 
and  he  could  always  get  enough  of  them  without 
playing  the  game  of  death  for  the  pleasure  of  it. 
Once  a  school  of  giants  came  to  the  Rocks,  and 
he  lay  in  the  shadow  of  a  crag  wondering  at  their 
size.  They  were  sperm  whales,  and  their  leader 
was  an  enormous  old  fellow  whose  fat  sides  were 
studded  with  barnacles.  These  seemed  to 
trouble  him,  and  he  would  roll  slowly  up  to  a 
peak  near  the  surface  where  the  sunlight  filtered 
down  through  the  blue,  and  rub  his  belly  for 
hours  at  a  time,  scraping  off  thousands  of  the 
parasites.  Then  the  stupid  little  fishes  would 
dart  out  from  their  hiding  places  to  catch  them, 
and  he  would  dash  among  them  before  they  could 
get  back  again.  While  the  monsters  lay  near  the 
Rocks  a  very  long  and  thin  relative  of  Johnny's 
mother  paid  them  a  visit.  His  tail  was  enormous, 
and  it  was  evident  he  was  fast.  He  seemed  to 
[258] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

have  some  business  with  his  parent,  for  soon 
afterwards  she  followed  him  off  to  sea  where  one 
of  the  whales  lay  sleeping  with  the  water  break 
ing  gently  over  her  back. 

When  they  were  close  to  her  they  made  a  sud 
den  dash,  the  lean  shark  leaping  high  in  air  and 
falling  with  a  tremendous  whack  upon  the  sleep 
ing  victim,  while  his  mother  chopped  her  sav 
agely  in  the  sides.  It  was  all  so  sudden  he  hardly 
had  time  to  get  away,  for  in  an  instant  the  sleep 
ing  whale  awoke  and  tore  the  sea  into  foam  with 
her  flukes. 

His  mother,  however,  heeded  the  outfly  but 
little  and  held  gamely  on.  The  whale  tried 
to  turn  and  seize  her  in  the  long  thin  jaw  that 
was  studded  with  enormous  teeth,  but  nothing 
could  dislodge  the  grip  of  her  triangles.  And  all 
the  time  the  thin  fellow  in  company  would  throw 
himself  in  the  air  and  smash  the  whale  terrific 
blows  with  his  lean  tail. 

The  noise  must  have  been  an  uproar,  for  in  a 
very  few  minutes  the  great  leader  who  had  been 
[259  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

rubbing  his  belly  came  plunging  through  the 
water  towards  them,  leaving  a  great  path  of 
white  foam  to  mark  his  course. 

Then  the  whale  sounded,  carrying  his  mother 
out  of  sight  below.  Instead  of  following,  the 
thresher  shark  dodged  the  great  bull  leader  and 
made  off,  leaving  the  mother  shark  to  get  away 
as  best  she  could. 

She  came  up  with  the  whale  half  a  mile  away, 
and  then  finding  herself  deserted  she  let  go  and 
started  to  make  off.  As  she  did  so  she  encoun 
tered  the  big  bull  coming  after  her.  She  ducked 
from  his  bite,  but  he  smote  her  such  a  blow  with 
his  flukes  as  she  dodged  past  that  she  was  hardly 
able  to  escape. 

The  next  day  she  grew  weaker,  and  a  sword- 
fish,  seeing  her,  gave  her  a  final  taste  of  his 
weapon,  and  began  to  chop  her  up.  Instead  of 
driving  him  away,  several  other  sharks,  that  now 
appeared,  openly  joined  him  in  accomplishing 
her  destruction,  and  soon  she  disappeared  en 
tirely. 

[260] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

With  no  protection  save  his  own  teeth,  the 
little  shark  now  went  his  way  among  the  peaks. 
Deep  down  in  the  blue  abyss  he  would  sink  until 
the  terrible  pressure  would  force  him  up  again 
to  the  world  of  sunlight.  Sometimes  he  would 
stay  for  hours  a  mile  or  more  down  in  caverns 
and  caves  of  the  mountain  side,  guided  alone  by 
the  sense  of  smell  and  that  delicate  sense  of  feel 
ing  peculiar  to  his  kind.  Each  and  every  mo 
tion  of  the  sea  caused  a  vibration  that  instinct 
explained.  Once  a  huge  arm  reached  out  from  a 
hiding  place  and  circled  him  within  its  embrace, 
but  before  it  could  draw  him  in  he  had  chopped 
it  in  two,  and  leisurely  ate  what  remained  as  he 
swam  on. 

He  was  growing  strong  now,  and  his  triangu 
lar  teeth  developed  saw  edges,  making  the  most 
perfect  cutting  machines  possible  to  devise.  His 
skin  was  tough  and  coarse,  a  bony  substance 
forming  upon  it  that  made  it  almost  tooth-proof 
to  ordinary  fish. 

He  developed  a  roving  disposition,  and  the 
[261  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

vicinity  of  the  great  mountain  became  too  well 
known.  He  started  off  to  the  westward  where 
the  sun  seemed  to  sink  in  a  deep  golden-red 
ocean,  and  he  cruised  along  near  the  surface,  his 
dorsal  fin  and  tip  of  tail  just  awash. 

Out  upon  the  lonely  ocean  he  quickened  his 
movement.  There  was  nothing,  nothing  but  the 
never-ending  sea  ahead,  with  the  soft  murmur  of 
the  trade  wind  turning  the  glistening  surface  a 
darker  blue,  while  from  miles  and  miles  away  to 
windward  came  the  low  song  of  the  South  Sea. 

On  and  on  he  went  until  hunger  made  him  look 
about  for  a  victim.  He  was  not  particular  as  to 
who  or  what  this  creature  might  be,  for  his  own 
powers  produced  an  apathy  of  fear  for  all  dan 
gerous  denizens  of  the  deep.  He  was  changing 
now,  and  no  longer  shunned  a  conflict  with  any 
thing  that  formerly  might  have  wounded  his  soft 
sides. 

One  day  a  whale  passed  in  his  wake.  The  huge 
bulk  of  the  creature  might  have  appalled  any 
fish,  but  he  was  hungry,  and  the  fat  blubber  was 
[262] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

tempting.  His  own  three  fathoms  of  lean,  hard 
flank  seemed  meager  enough. 

With  a  quick  movement  he  turned  and  made 
straight  for  the  cachalot.  The  monster  opened 
his  mouth  by  dropping  his  long,  thin  under  jaw, 
and  made  a  chop  at  him,  but  he  swerved  and  sank 
his  triangles  deep  in  the  blubber  of  the  animal's 
neck,  covering  a  good  hundred  pounds  of  him. 

The  whale  plunged  wildly,  lashing  right  and 
left  with  his  powerful  tail,  finally  throwing  him 
self  clear  of  the  sea  and  falling  again  with  a 
stupendous  crash.  But  the  shark  held  grimly 
on.  Rolling  over  and  over  the  animal  tried  to 
throw  himself  clear  of  that  grip.  The  blubber 
was  tearing  out  in  a  huge  ribbon  where  the  tri 
angles  had  cut  it  clear,  and  the  blood  was  show 
ing  upon  the  white  fat.  The  sea  was  a  surf  upon 
a  submerged  reef.  And  all  the  time  the  shark 
jerked  and  wrenched,  dodged  and  pulled  until 
the  huge  mouthful  came  clear. 

Quickly  the  whale  turned  to  chop  with  that 
long  jaw  studded  with  huge  points  of  ivory. 
[263] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

Quicker  still  slewed  the  shark.  The  whale  missed, 
and  the  shark  again  sank  those  terrible  cutters 
deep  in  the  hole  already  made  in  the  animal's 
neck.  This  time  it  was  flesh  that  felt  the  bite, 
and  the  pain  maddened  the  leviathan.  With  a 
bellow  like  a  bull  he  started  off,  dragging  the 
shark  along  with  him  as  though  he  had  been  but 
a  tiny  pilot  fish. 

On  and  on  the  great  whale  tore,  while  the 
shark  hung  helpless  by  his  side.  The  whale  was 
doing  all  the  work,  and  all  he  had  to  do  was  to 
hold  on.  Gradually  the  pace  eased  a  little,  and 
finally  stopped.  Then  down,  straight  down  into 
the  abyss  below,  plunged  the  leviathan. 

But  even  here  the  shark  still  held  his  grip. 
The  pressure  became  enormous  in  that  cold 
blackness,  but  he  could  stand  it  as  well  as  the 
monster. 

Then,  after  an  hour  of  twisting  and  rolling, 

they  came  quickly  to  the  surface  again,  the  whale 

somewhat  tired.     Now  was  the  shark's  chance. 

Letting  go  his  hold  he  made  a  sudden  fresh  chop 

[264] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

to  tear  the  bite  out,  and  he  backed  away  with  a 
huge  piece  of  flesh.  The  whale  turned  as  quickly 
as  possible,  but  he  was  tired  now,  and  the  shark 
chopped  him  again  and  again,  savagely  tearing 
out  great  pieces  of  blubber  and  beef. 

The  sea  was  dyed  red,  and  the  surging  of 
flukes  and  threshing  about  brought  several  wan 
dering  sharks  from  the  depth  to  see  what  it  all 
meant.  One  of  these,  a  huge  killer,  joined  the 
fight  against  the  whale,  and  soon  he  also  chopped 
and  tore  the  wound  into  a  great  hole.  The  fight 
now  became  general,  as  the  strangers  took  a 
hand.  The  worried  whale  rolled  and  smote  right 
and  left,  but  our  shark  tore  him  deeper  and 
deeper. 

One  of  the  newcomers  ventured  across  the 
whale's  head,  and  was  promptly  seized  in  the 
long  thin  jaw  that  swung  up  and  cut  him  in 
halves.  All  except  the  first  assailant  left  the 
whale  to  eat  the  unfortunate  shark,  and  the  two 
fighters  were  alone  again  for  some  minutes. 

The  whale  now  became  weaker,  and  except  for 
[265] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

an  occasional  lunge  lay  quietly  beating  the  sea 
with  his  flukes. 

The  shark  now  began  to  bolt  large  pieces  of 
him  at  his  leisure,  and  the  rest  seeing  him  at 
work  came  sneaking  back  again.  They  formed  a 
circle  around  the  d}Ting  monster,  and  rushed  in 
and  chopped  him  whenever  they  dared.  In  a 
little  while  he  began  swimming  slowly  in  a  circle, 
and  then  finally  stopped.  He  gave  one  final  side 
long  blow  with  his  flukes  that  broke  every  bone 
in  a  shark's  body  that  happened  in  its  way.  Then 
he  lay  still  and  rolled  upon  his  sides.  He  was 
dead.  And  now  from  the  lonely  depths  where 
all  was  apparently  a  void,  the  scavengers  came 
sneaking  forth. 

Big  sharks  and  little  sharks,  hammerhead 
and  shovel-nose,  all  began  to  circle  about  the 
huge  carcass,  and  watch  for  a  place  to  chop  a 
piece  of  blubber  out.  They  crowded  and  jostled 
each  other,  and  sometimes  even  fought  for  a 
place  alongside.  Above  them  the  whale-birds 
screamed  and  squawked  as  they  hovered  and  lit 
[266] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

for  an  instant  to  tear  at  the  juicy  covering  of  the 
carcass. 

Our  fighter  had  by  this  time  gorged  himself 
with  several  hundred  pounds  of  whale  beef,  and 
being  tired  from  the  exertion  of  the  encounter, 
he  swam  slowly  away. 

In  the  following  weeks  of  cruising  he  found 
smaller  game,  but  he  now  felt  a  contempt  for  all 
other  creatures.  He  had  vanquished  the  largest 
animal  alive,  and  the  feeling  that  he  could  con 
quer  anything  made  him  slow  to  tackle  smaller 
fish. 

For  months  he  cruised  to  the  westward  and 
skirted  the  shores  of  the  continent,  finding 
enough  to  eat  around  the  river  mouths.  In  one 
harbor  where  there  was  much  offal  he  lived  for 
several  years,  only  going  to  sea  for  a  draught  of 
fresh  salt  water  now  and  then.  He  grew  stead 
ily  in  size  until  he  reached  full  twenty  feet  in 
length. 

His  hide  was  now  of  a  dull  grayish-brown, 
shading  to  white  on  his  belly.  Upon  it  the  little 
[267] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

hard  lumps  of  bony  substance  thickened.  His 
jaws  were  nearly  three  feet  wide,  and  he  now  had 
six  rows  of  triangles,  the  outside  and  largest 
being  over  an  inch  on  a  side  clear  of  the  gums. 
His  e}'es  were  large  and  bright,  and  his  nose 
broad  and  sensitive. 

Several  ugly  little  fish  followed  him  around 
wherever  he  went.  They  had  flat  tops  to  their 
heads,  and  looked  like  black  corrugated  chunks 
of  rubber  with  tails  to  them,  the  corrugated  part 
of  their  heads  being  on  top.  With  these  slits 
they  sucked  strongly  to  the  shark  when  he  swam, 
making  him  tow  them  about  without  any  exer 
tion  on  their  part.  His  hide,  however,  was  too 
thick  to  mind  a  little  thing  like  that,  and  he 
finally  came  to  know  each  one  so  well  by  sight 
that  he  never  made  a  chop  at  them.  They  were 
about  the  only  living  things  he  let  pass  him. 

As  time  passed  he  developed  a  taste  for  com 
pany.  A  desire  to  meet  his  kind  came  upon  him, 
and  he  left  the  lazy  life  in  the  harbor  and  went 
to  sea  again. 

[268] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

He  traveled  through  the  West  Indies,  and 
there  one  bright  hot  day  on  the  reef  he  met  a 
shark  that  appeared  most  friendly.  It  was  a 
new  feeling  that  came  upon  him  at  the  meeting, 
a  desire  to  live  in  the  companionship  of  the 
stranger  for  a  time.  He  even  found  himself  let 
ting  her  take  the  first  choice  of  some  barracuda 
he  had  killed,  and  from  one  thing  leading  to  an 
other  he  waxed  very  affectionate. 

They  traveled  together  during  a  moon,  and 
then  they  found  a  warm  spot  on  the  Bahama 
Bank  where  the  hot  stream  flowed  past  beautiful 
coral  hills  that  rose  from  the  blue,  depths. 

Here  they  lingered  for  some  time,  his  mate 
giving  birth  to  five  soft-skinned  little  sharks. 
He  was  not  much  interested  in  this  and  once  made 
a  chop  at  one  of  the  youngsters,  cutting  him  in 
half. 

For  this  his  mate  made  a  chop  at  him,  and 
nearly  cut  off  his  side  fin.     Then,  finding  that 
everything  was  not  as  pleasant  as  it  had  seemed, 
he  cruised  away  again  to  the  southward. 
[269] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

One  day  he  came  to  a  queer  thing  floating 
upon  the  water.  It  was  not  unlike  a  whale  as 
viewed  from  underneath,  but  every  now  and  then 
a  peculiar  creature  with  arms  and  legs  swaying 
wildly,  dropped  from  it  and  went  to  the  bottom. 
Then,  sta3ring  but  a  moment  to  collect  some  shell 
fish,  it  would  rise  again  to  the  surface. 

This  interested  him,  and  he  lay  by  watching. 
Then,  the  smell  of  these  creatures  being  some 
what  appetizing,  he  made  a  dash  at  one  as  he 
arose. 

He  came  to  the  surface  with  the  man  in  his 
jaws,  and  he  saw  the  whalelike  object  was  full 
of  similar  animals.  They  shouted  and  made  a 
great  noise  when  they  saw  their  fellow  chopped 
in  halves  and  carried  away  by  him. 

Now  the  taste  of  this  peculiar  creature  was 
very  good — much  better,  in  fact,  than  the  fish 
he  had  been  eating.  For  a  long  time  after  his 
meal  he  waited  a  few  fathoms  below  the  surface, 
hoping  another  would  descend. 

Finally,  lie  noticed  a  long  line  trailing  away 
[270] 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

from  the  floating  thing  above.  He  watched  it 
and  smcllcd  it,  and  found  there  was  something 
tied  to  the  end.  He  was  a  little  afraid  that  there 
was  something  wrong  with  that  line  and  a  sud 
den  fear  came  upon  him.  He  hesitated.  Then 
his  old  careless  spirit  came  back,  and  he  nosed 
the  bait,  finding  it  some  kind  of  flesh  he  had 
never  tasted  before.  He  pushed  it  about  while 
the  instinctive  fear  of  the  peculiar  smell  held 
him.  Then  he  made  a  chop  and  bolted  the  lump. 

The  line,  however,  would  not  cut.  He  chopped 
and  chopped,  again  and  again,  backing  away, 
but  to  no  purpose. 

Suddenly  the  line  became  taut.  A  sharp  pain 
struck  him  in  the  throat,  and  he  knew  he  was  fast 
to  the  line  by  some  sharp  thing  in  the  flesh  he 
had  bolted. 

He  became  panic-stricken  and  fled  away.  But 
no  sooner  would  he  forge  ahead  a  few  fathoms 
than  that  line  would  draw  so  tight  the  pain  was 
unbearable.  He  would  be  slowly  and  surely 
pulled  back  again. 

[271] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

This  lasted  for  some  minutes,  and  then  his  old 
spirit  of  apathy  came  upon  him,  and  he  allowed 
the  line  drag  him  where  it  chose,  while  he 
held  it  like  a  vice  in  his  jaws. 

Soon  he  found  himself  at  the  surface,  and  the 
strange  creatures  like  the  one  he  had  eaten  made 
a  great  noise.  There  were  several  flashes  like 
lightning,  only  not  so  bright,  and  with  the  noise 
like  thunder  he  felt  heavy  blows  upon  his  head. 
He  made  a  desperate  dash  away,  and  tore  the 
line  slack  for  many  fathoms,  but  the  pain  in 
his  throat  stopped  him  from  going  farther. 
Then  he  was  lifted  slowly  back  to  the  surface 
again. 

There  he  lay  a  huge,  dark  shadow  under  the 
clear  water.  He  was  growing  faint  and  dizzy 
from  the  blows  upon  his  head,  and  the  last  he 
saw  of  the  bright  sunlight  was  the  blue  water 
foaming  about  him,  and  a  row  of  eyes  looking 
over  the  edge  of  the  floating  thing. 

They  passed  a  bowline  over  his  tail  and  hitched 
the  throat-halliard  block  to  it.  Then  they 


JOHNNY    SHARK 

hoisted  him  tail  first  into  the  air,  and  cut  the 
hook  from  his  mouth.  A  diver  cut  off  his  tail 
and  hung  it  on  the  jibboom  end  for  luck.  Later 
they  cut  him  adrift  and  he  sank  slowly  down  to 
the  white  coral  below,  lying  there  upon  his  side, 
a  grisly  sight.  The  shadow  above  disappeared, 
and  then  the  scavengers  of  the  reef  came  creep 
ing  up  to  do  their  work. 


[273] 


^r-*-1- 


A   TRAGEDY   OF   THE    SOUTH 
ATLANTIC 

THE  whaling  schooner  Erin  was  a  mod 
ern  vessel.  She  had  a  little  of  the  "  old 
greaser "  about  her.  She  had  been 
built  and  fitted  out  at  New  Bedford,  Mass., 
the  mother-port  of  nearly  all  good  whaling 
craft,  and  she  was  manned  by  men  who  had 
served  their  time  in  whaling  ships.  Her  tonnage 
was  not  over  three  hundred,  but  she  was  so 
strongly  put  together  that  she  looked  somewhat 
heavier  than  she  really  was.  Her  bow  was  like 
that  of  a  clipper,  and  her  stern  had  the  modern 
overhang  of  a  cruising  yacht,  but  her  beam  was 
great  and  her  top-sides  bulky,  showing  a  tumble- 
home  like  that  of  the  ancient  frigates.  There 
fore,  she  was  not  considered  fast.  Her  spars 
were  short  and  stumpy,  and  she  had  no  foreboom, 
[277] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

owing  to  chunky  smokestack  that  arose  from 
her  main  deck,  over  which  the  foresail  passed. 
She  was  flushed  fore  and  aft,  save  for  a  heavy- 
built  superstructure  over  her  engines,  through 
which  the  smokestack  protruded,  and  it  was  evi 
dent  that  she  could  stand  a  great  amount  of 
rough  usage.  Being  built  for  southern  whaling 
in  the  vicinity  of  Cape  Horn,  she  needed  all  the 
strength  that  could  be  put  into  her,  and  Captain 
Jackson,  her  commander,  always  kept  her  down 
to  a  draught  of  fifteen  feet,  even  when  running 
light,  to  enable  her  to  hold  up  to  the  tremendous 
rolling  seas  off  the  Cape.  Forward,  she  carried 
a  peculiar  sort  of  cannon  on  her  forecastle,  which 
fired  an  exploding  harpoon  weighing  a  hundred 
pounds,  heavy  enough  to  put  a  quietus  upon  any 
ordinary  member  of  the  whale  family.  Her  boats 
and  other  gear  were  of  the  usual  type;  but,  as 
she  was  not  to  carry  oil,  either  in  bulk  or  casks, 
her  deck  was  devoid  of  the  ordinary  furnace  of 
the  sperm-whaler,  and  her  hold  of  the  odor  which 
comes  from  the  usual  mass  of  rancid  blubber 
[278] 


A    TRAGEDY 

when  packed  for  a  long  voyage  from  the  Arctic 
Ocean,  in  vessels  hunting  the  right  whale.  She 
was,  in  fact,  a  stanch,  trim  little  vessel.  Her 
crew  of  thirty  men  had  been  selected  and  shipped, 
and  Captain  Jackson  cleared  for  his  last  cruise. 

When  well  off  shore,  the  boiler  was  cooled  and 
sails  set,  for  there  must  be  no  waste  of  coal,  and 
the  Erin  stood  to  the  southward  on  her  long  run 
to  the  Falkland  Islands,  where  she  would  begin 
her  hunt  for  the  giants  of  the  southern  ocean. 

The  run  south  was  made  without  any  unusual 
experience.  On  the  sixty-first  day  out  she  raised 
the  huge  mountains  of  Patagonia  to  the  west 
ward,  and,  shortening  sail  so  as  to  drift  not  over 
four  knots  an  hour,  she  hauled  on  the  wind  and 
stood  through  the  "  black  water  "  between  the 
Falk  Islands  and  Staten  Land. 

In  December  and  January,  the  Antarctic  sum 
mer  months,  the  air  is  quite  cold  as  far  north 
as  the  fiftieth  parallel.  The  "blow"  of  a 
whale  stands  out  sharply  against  the  sky  as  the 
warm  air  in  the  animal's  lungs  turns  into  vapor, 
[279  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

giving  the  hunter  a  chance  to  see  it  at  a  distance 
of  several  miles.  Objects  seem  to  lift  from  off 
the  horizon  as  in  a  mirage,  only  they  are  not  in 
verted. 

Here,  in  the  summer  season,  the  great  rorqual, 
or  finback  whale,  disports  himself  in  ease  and 
security,  for,  until  lately,  he  has  had  few  known 
enemies,  and  has  been  unmolested  by  man.  Doz 
ens  of  these  great  creatures  often  follow  a  huge 
bull  leader,  and  they  jump  and  plunge  about  as 
lively  as  they  would  if  their  weight  were  reck 
oned  in  pounds  instead  of  tons. 

The  huge,  timid  creature  who  led  a  school 
under  the  shadow  of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  that  sea 
son,  was  a  giant  of  his  kind.  One  hundred  feet 
of  solid  bulk  was  between  the  tips  of  his  tremen 
dous  flukes  and  the  end  of  his  hideous  head.  A 
hundred  tons  of  bone  and  sinew,  covered  with  a 
coating  of  thin  blubber,  to  keep  out  the  cold  of 
the  icy  seas. 

His  head  was  ugly  and  flat-looking,  and  his 
mouth  a  hideous  cavern,  full  of  slabs  of  whale- 
[280] 


A    TRAGEDY 

bone,  from  which  depended  masses  of  horrible 
hair  to  act  as  a  sieve  for  the  whale-food  poured 
down  his  gullet.  His  back  slanted  away  to  a 
place  amidships,  where  a  lumpy  knob  rose,  as  if 
he  were  a  hunchback,  and  from  there  aft  he 
sloped  in  long  and  sinuous  lines  to  the  spread  of 
his  tail  or  flukes,  which  were  fully  two  fathoms 
across.  The  blades  of  the  Erin's  wheel  were  not 
nearly  so  large  or  so  powerful  as  the  blades  of 
bone  and  cartilage  that  drove  him  ahead  through 
the  yielding  medium,  or  raised  the  tons  of  flesh 
and  blood  to  a  height  that  showed  a  full  fathom 
or  more  of  clear  sky  under  his  thin  belly  when 
he  breached.  He  was  a  giant,  a  descendant 
from  prehistoric  ages  when  monsters  of  his  kind 
were  more  common  than  they  are  to-day.  It  is 
doubtful  if  ever  anything  existed  in  flesh  or  blood 
of  greater  size. 

How  old  the  giant  was  no  one  could  learn.  His 
age  could  hardly  have  been  less  than  two  cen 
turies,  for  whales  grow  slowly.     They  are  like 
other  warm-blooded  animals,  and  it  takes  many 
[281  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

years  to  build  up  a  mass  of  a  hundred  tons  of 
flesh  fiber.  He  was  known  to  Captain  Jackson, 
who  had  seen  him  on  former  voyages,  but  as  yet 
he  had  not  made  his  acquaintance ;  for,  in  spite 
of  the  old  whale's  size  and  age,  he  was  very  timid. 
He  would  rush  from  a  pair  of  fierce  "  killers,"- 
the  dreaded  sharks  who  attack  toothless  whales, 
— and  only  his  tremendous  size  and  activity 
would  prevent  them  from  following  him.  Con 
sequently,  whenever  Jackson  lowered  his  small 
boats,  with  the  intention  of  making  him  a  visit, 
the  old  fellow  would  wait  only  long  enough  to 
allow  the  boats  to  approach  within  fifty  fathoms 
of  him.  Then  he  would  begin  to  edge  away,  and, 
before  the  whale-gun  could  be  brought  to  bear, 
he  would  be  in  full  flight  to  windward,  his  flock 
or  school  following  in  his  wake.  Many  were  the 
maledictions  cast  upon  him  by  the  whalemen, 
whose  tired  muscles  bore  witness  to  his  speed, 
and,  finally,  he  was  left  alone  to  roam  at  will  in 
the  "  black  water."  Where  he  went  to,  at  the 
beginning  of  winter,  it  was  impossible  to  tell, 
[282] 


A    TRAGEDY 

but,  at  the  first  easterly  blow,  he  would  disap 
pear,  bound  for  other  parts,  leaving  nothing 
behind  but  a  crew  of  angry  sailors,  and  taking 
with  him  the  memory  of  an  undisturbed  old 
age. 

On  that  December  morning,  when  Captain 
Jackson  hauled  on  the  wind  and  stood  offshore, 
the  sun  shone  brilliantly.  The  wind  was  light 
and  from  the  southwest,  and  objects  stood  up 
plainly  from  the  sea.  The  lookout  at  the  mast 
head  had  just  been  relieved,  when  the  time-worn 
cry  of  "  blo-o-ow  "  reached  the  deck.  Away  to 
the  southward  rose  the  jets,  looking  almost  as 
high  as  water  spouts,  as  the  warm  vapor  con 
densed  in  the  cool  air.  It  was  a  large  school,  or, 
more  properly  speaking,  herd,  for  a  finback  is 
no  more  a  fish  than  is  a  cow.  Jackson  came  on 
deck  and  watched  the  blows,  counting  them  over 
and  over  to  get  the  exact  number  of  his  game. 
Whalebone  at  so  much  a  ton  was  within  easy  dis 
tance,  and  it  looked  as  if  a  few  thousand  dol 
lars'  worth  of  the  substance  would  find  its  way 
[283] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

below  hatches  by  dinner  time.  The  forward  gun 
was  overhauled  and  the  line  and  harpoon  cleared, 
the  latter  being  charged  with  a  heavy  load  of 
powder.  The  explosion  would  open  the  huge 
barbs  of  the  harpoon  and  drive  them  deeper  into 
the  monster,  expanding  in  his  flesh,  making  it 
absolutely  impossible  to  withdraw  them  by  pull 
ing  on  the  line.  They  would  not  hunt  him  after 
the  manner  of  the  tame  and  harmless  sperm 
whale,  that  can  be  killed  with  about  as  much  ease 
as  a  cow  in  a  pasture,  in  spite  of  all  the  sailors' 
yarns  to  the  contrary. 

The  whales  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  the 
schooner.  They  played  a  quiet,  frolicsome 
game,  breaching  and  sounding,  and  coming  often 
to  the  surface  to  breathe.  There  were  some 
young  ones  among  them,  and  the  huge  leader, 
the  giant  bull,  seemed  to  take  a  special  pride  in 
one  whose  antics  were  more  pronounced  than  the 
rest.  He  would  come  near  it  and  seem  almost  to 
touch  it  gently  with  his  side  flipper,  and  the  little 
fellow  would  make  a  breach  clear  out  of  the 


A    TRAGEDY 

water,  apparently  with  pure  joy  at  the  notice 
bestowed.  Then  he  would  come  alongside  the  big 
fellow  and  snuggle  up  to  him  in  a  most  affection 
ate  manner,  and  the  giant  would  roll  toward  him 
and  put  out  his  great  arm  or  flipper,  as  if  to  be 
stow  a  caress.  He  was  a  very  affectionate  old  fel 
low,  and,  as  the  vessel  drew  nearer,  his  size  and 
actions  were  remarked  by  the  mate,  who  called 
the  skipper's  attention  to  them.  Just  then  the 
great  whale  breached,  and  the  sun,  striking 
fairly  upon  his  dark  side,  showed  several  deep 
lines  that  looked  like  huge  scars.  His  long,  thin 
shape  and  hideous  head  were  plainly  outlined 
against  the  sky,  and,  as  he  struck,  the  sea  re 
sounded  with  the  crash.  He  disappeared,  and 
the  little  fellow  breached  and  followed  him. 

"  That's  the  big  coward,  the  leader,"  said 
Jackson.  "  You  kin  tell  him  by  them  cuts  he  has 
in  his  sides,  an'  there  aint  nothin'  bigger  afloat. 
He  is  an  old  one  and  wary.  You  wouldn't  think 
a  whale  with  them  scars  on  him  would  be  scared 
at  a  little  boat,  hey  ?  Them  was  cut  a  long  time 
[285] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

ago,  mebbe,  but  they  were  done  in  a  fight  sech  as 
ye've  never  seen." 

"  Mebbe  he  got  licked  ?  "  suggested  the  mate. 

"  He  wouldn't  be  here  if  he  had,"  said  Jack 
son.  "  Howsomever,  here  he  is,  and  it's  our  busi 
ness  to  get  him  and  cut  him  up,  if  we  kin." 

To  stop  the  leader  of  the  whales  was  the  ob 
ject,  for,  if  he  was  held,  the  rest  would  either 
scatter  or  await  developments.  In  either  case 
they  would  not  get  very  far  away,  and  could  be 
reckoned  with  afterwards.  The  Erin  was  held 
pointed  toward  the  spot  where  the  whale  was 
expected  to  rise,  and  the  mate  went  forward  and 
stood  behind  the  gun  with  the  harpoon  loaded  in 
it,  and  ready  for  a  shot  as  soon  as  he  should  come 
within  twenty  fathoms.  The  old  coward,  how 
ever,  had  seen  the  approaching  ship,  and,  with  a 
peculiar  movement  of  his  flukes  upon  the  water, 
he  gave  the  signal  for  danger. 

Somewhere  in  that  oily  brain  the  memory  of 
his  past  life  was  stored  in  a  strangely  simple  but 
vivid  manner.  He  remembered,  although  he  was 
[286] 


A    TRAGEDY 

unable  to  reason  it  all  out  like  the  human  being 
who  hunted  him ;  but,  a  thousand  moons  before, 
he  had  gone  forth  in  the  ocean  from  his  birth 
place  in  the  South  Pacific,  and  had  held  his  way 
proudly  and  with  force.  Fiercely  he  had  fought 
for  everything  he  took  of  the  world's  belongings, 
and  the  joy  of  battle  had  run  warm  in  his  blood. 
It  had  surged  through  his  great  frame  at  the 
sight  of  a  stranger,  and  he  had  striven  and  con 
quered  all  who  had  opposed  him  or  refused  to  do 
his  will.  Many  had  died,  for  a  sea  fight  is  usu 
ally  to  the  death,  and  the  strangeness  of  the  pas 
sion  had  gradually  worked  its  way  into  the  old 
mind,  and  he  held  aloof.  The  experience  of  a 
hundred  years  taught  him  something.  The  oily 
brain  learned  slowly.  The  instinct,  or  feeling, 
had  gradually  come  upon  him  that  to  fight  is  a 
great  waste  of  energy,  for  life  was  more  pleasant 
in  the  companionship  of  his  many  wives  and 
young  ones,  and  continual  strife  was  not  the 
right  thing.  To  avoid  it,  if  possible,  was  the 
thought  uppermost  in  his  old  head ;  so,  when  he 
[287] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

saw  the  approaching  schooner,  he  gave  a  warn 
ing  stroke  upon  the  sea. 

Instantly  all  the  whales  sounded. 

But  Captain  Jackson  was  an  old  whaleman. 
He  was  after  whales,  and  he  had  come  thousands 
of  miles  to  hunt  them.  The  animals  must  come 
up  again,  soon,  and  to  be  near  the  spot  where 
they  would  reappear  would  probably  mean  a  cap 
ture.  With  a  keen  sense  of  reasoning,  the  bull 
knew  that  bodies  that  travel  through  the  air  must 
necessarily  be  retarded  by  the  wind.  There 
fore,  to  windward  he  led  the  herd,  and  Jackson 
did  not  underestimate  his  cunning.  With  fires 
started  under  the  boiler,  the  Erin  held  her  way 
straight  into  the  eye  of  the  breeze,  and  the  mate 
leaned  over  the  forecastle  rail,  gun-lanyard  in 
hand,  peering  into  the  clear  depths  for  the  dark 
shadow  below  that  would  show  the  presence  of  a 
rising  monster.  Jackson  stood  at  the  wheel  with 
the  signal  pull  in  his  hand,  waiting  to  "  shake  her 
up  "  at  the  first  sign  of  the  game.  The  wheel 
turned  slowly  below,  and  the  slight  jar  of  ma- 
[288] 


A    TRAGEDY 

chinery  vibrating  the  hull  was  the  only  sound 
save  the  stirred  water  abaft  the  rudder  from 
the  thrust  of  the  screw,  gurgling  and  murmuring 
in  a  soft  undertone. 

The  whalemen  were  gathered  about  the  fore 
castle  head,  or  stood  near  the  boat  falls,  ready 
to  lower  away  at  a  signal,  and  secure  their  victim. 
The  sun  shone  strongly,  and  objects  were  visible 
at  a  great  depth  below  the  surface  of  the  sea. 
Ten  minutes  passed,  and  Jackson  was  getting 
nervous.  He  had  tried  to  gauge  the  rapidity  of 
the  old  bull's  headway  through  the  water,  and 
had  figured  that  he  would  come  up  somewhere 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  vessel  on  her  course.  But 
not  a  sign  of  a  whale  had  shown,  and  ten  minutes 
had  passed.  They  must  be  badly  gallied,  indeed, 
to  stay  under  much  longer.  The  old  bull  was 
cunning ;  but  he,  Jackson,  knew  a  thing  or  two. 
It  was  pitting  the  old  brain  of  an  animal  with 
a  century  or  two  of  experience  against  that  of 
an  old  man  with  keen  intelligence.  The  skipper 
felt  confident.  He  would  take  a  long  shot  at  the 
[289] 


THE  STRIFE  OF  THE  SEA 
big  fellow,  and,  once  fast  to  him,  whalebone 
would  be  plentiful  for  a  few  days.  While  the 
mate  was  leaning  over  the  rail  forward,  looking 
down  into  the  depths,  he  noticed  a  sudden  dark 
ening  of  the  water  just  ahead  of  the  vessel.  He 
sprang  to  the  cannon  and  stood  ready  to  fire. 
The  great  shadow  rose  toward  the  surface,  and 
the  men  saw  instantly  that  it  was  a  huge  whale. 
Jackson  was  right,  to  a  hair.  The  great  bull 
was  coming  up  under  the  jib-boom  end.  A  man 
raised  his  hand  aloft  and  gave  a  low  cry,  while 
the  rest  stood  back  from  the  gun  to  escape  the 
shock  of  the  heavy  discharge  and  powder-blast. 
Jackson  rushed  to  the  rail  and  leaned  over. 

But  the  great  shadow  did  not  materialize  into 
anything  more.  It  remained  deep  down  beneath 
the  surface,  fully  twenty  feet  below,  and,  as  the 
schooner  forged  ahead,  it  drifted  alongside,  a 
few  fathoms  distant.  The  signal  was  made  to 
stop  the  engines,  and  both  the  schooner  and  the 
whale  lay  quietly  drifting,  the  animal  deep  down 
and  perfectly  safe  from  a  shot. 
[290] 


A    TRAGEDY 

"  It's  the  coward,  all  right,"  said  Jackson, 
coming  to  the  mate's  side ;  "  that  big  coward  bull 
what  won't  show  up  for  nothin'.  I  never  seen 
sech  a  scary  whale.  Look  at  him — sink  me,  jest 
look  at  him!  Blamed  if  he  didn't  wink  at  me. 
Will  ye  look  at  that  eye?  " 

The  old  whale  was  lying  almost  motionless, 
and  his  eye  could  be  seen  distinctly.  He  was 
watching  the  vessel  carefully,  and  the  rippling 
water  from  the  bends  actually  did  give  him  the 
appearance  of  opening  and  closing  one  eye  as 
the  waves  of  light  flashed  upon  it.  He  seemed  to 
be  very  much  absorbed  in  profound  contempla 
tion  of  the  ship.  Perhaps  he  had  not  expected 
to  find  her  so  close  aboard  when  he  intended  to 
breach  for  a  breath  of  air.  However,  there  was 
plenty  of  time.  Breathing  was  something  he 
was  not  obliged  to  indulge  in  more  than  once 
every  half -hour  or  two,  and  he  would  not  come 
up  until  he  had  put  a  little  more  distance  between 
himself  and  the  vessel.  All  hands  were  peering 
over  the  side  at  him  when,  suddenly,  several 
[291] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

blows  sounded  close  aboard.  All  about,  jets  of 
spray  and  vapor  shot  skyward,  and  fully  a  dozen 
whales  breached  and  then  disappeared  again. 
The  mate  rushed  for  the  gun  and  Jackson 
sprang  to  the  engine  signal,  while  the  second 
and  third  officers,  "  bos'n,"  harpooners,  and  the 
rest,  ran  for  their  gear.  When  they  looked  over 
the  side  again  the  shadow  of  the  giant  had  dis 
appeared,  and  the  sea  was  as  quiet  as  a  lake.  In 
a  few  minutes  a  huge  form  breached  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  ahead — the  bull  had  breathed, 
and  was  quietly  going  to  windward.  The  ani 
mals  were  not  badly  gallied  as  the  word  is  applied 
to  thoroughly  frightened  whales.  They  had 
gone  along  at  a  steady,  but  not  fast,  gait,  and 
had  come  up  together  as  if  at  a  signal.  The 
schooner  was  not  troubling  them  very  much,  and 
the  sea  was  wide.  There  was  room  enough  for 
all. 

The  high,  grim  cliffs  of  Staten  Land  rose 
higher  and  I'-gher  as  the  morning  wore  on.    The 
Erin  was  heading  inshore,  still  pointing  into  the 
[292] 


A    TRAGEDY 

breeze,  and  now  and  then  a  great  spurt  of  foam 
and  a  blow  would  show  where  the  whales  led  the 
way  straight  ahead. 

"  Of  all  the  low-lived  critters  I  ever  see,  that 
cowardly  bull  air  the  meanest,"  said  Jackson, 
after  seven  bells  had  struck ;  "  but  I'll  fix  him,  if 
I  chase  him  clear  to  'Frisco.  I  won't  mind  burn 
ing  a  few  tons  o'  coal  fer  him.  Put  an  extra 
charge  of  powder  in  behind  that  iron,  and  loose 
off  at  him  when  we  come  within  thirty  fathom." 

"  Looks  like  he'll  be  a-climbing  the  mounting 
ahead  thar  in  a  minute,"  said  the  mate,  motion 
ing  toward  the  high  and  ragged  hills  which  rose 
out  of  the  sea. 

"  We'll  strike  ile  in  half  an  hour,  or  I'm  a 
sojer,"  said  the  skipper  decisively.  "  You  tend 
ter  yer  own,  and  don't  give  no  advice,  an',  if 
there's  any  climbin'  to  be  done,  I'll  do  it." 

The  animals  still  held  along  inshore,  and  it 

looked  as  if  they  would  soon  be  in  shallow  water. 

The  leadline  was  gotten  out  when  the  vessel  came 

within  half  a  mile  of  the  rocks,  and  a  sounding 

[293] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

was  taken.  No  bottom  was  found  at  fifty 
fathoms,  and  she  was  allowed  to  drift  further  in, 
her  engines  barely  turning  fast  enough  to  give 
her  steering  way.  The  land  was  very  near,  and 
Jackson  was  nervous.  The  heavy  snore  of  the 
swell  upon  the  ledges  sounded  plainly  over  the 
sunlit  sea,  and  every  now  and  then  a  spurt  of 
foam  showed  that,  although  the  ocean  was  calm, 
there  were  heavy  breakers  falling  upon  the  shore, 
caused  by  the  lift  of  the  offshore  heave.  That 
barren  island  was  not  an  inviting  coast,  and  to 
strike  upon  a  sunken  ledge  would  mean  disaster. 
Jackson  stood  upon  the  poop,  with  his  hand  upon 
the  signal,  ready  to  reverse  the  engines  and 
swing  clear,  when  there  seemed  to  be  a  slowing 
down  in  the  movements  of  the  game  ahead.  Then 
the  water  whitened  about  the  ship,  and  the  cause 
became  evident.  They  were  running  through  a 
great  mass  of  whale-food,  and  the  tiny  gelati 
nous  bodies  were  so  thick  that  the  color  of  the  sea 
was  changed  by  them.  Jackson  rang  off  the 
engine. 

[294] 


A    TRAGEDY 

"  We've  got  'em  now,"  he  said  quietly,  and 
watched  the  surface  of  the  ocean. 

The  big  bull  whale  had  run  into  the  mass  of 
food,  and  had  slowed  down  a  little  to  allow  quan 
tities  of  it  to  pour  down  his  gullet.  There  was 
no  unseemly  haste  in  getting  away  from  the  pur 
suing  stranger.  He  would  suddenly  slew  to  the 
southward,  when  he  reached  four  or  five  fathoms 
of  water,  and  then  the  pace  could  be  increased 
until  the  following  craft  would  be  dropped  be 
hind.  He  was  a  cool-headed  old  bull,  and  there 
was  no  occasion  for  nervousness — all  would  have 
gone  well  with  the  whole  herd,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  a  willful  young  cow. 

As  the  Erin  slowed  down  the  whales  ahead 
were  swimming  upon  the  surface,  taking  in  the 
food  in  enormous  quantities,  apparently  enjoy 
ing  their  dinner,  and  showing  no  interest  in  the 
vessel  that  held  along,  with  her  sinister  purpose, 
in  their  wake.  She  barely  rippled  the  water,  as 
she  went  through  it,  and  Mr.  Collins,  the  mate, 
stood  behind  the  gun  on  the  forecastle,  with  the 
[295] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

lanyard  in  his  hand,  ready  to  fire  at  any  back 
that  might  break  water  within  thirty  fathoms. 
The  rest  crowded  about  the  rail  and  waited,  some 
standing  by  the  line,  ready  to  snub  it  as  soon 
as  a  stricken  animal  should  become  weak  enough 
to  allow  them. 

The  young  cow  that  lagged  behind  the  rest 
was  not  very  large,  but  she  had  a  thousand 
pounds  or  more  of  good  bone  in  her  mouth,  and 
she  had  breached  dead  in  front  of  the  vessel,  with 
her  tail  toward  it.  The  bull  saw  the  distance 
gradully  closing  between  his  followers  and  the 
ship,  and  he  gave  again  that  peculiar  stroke  with 
his  flukes  which  meant  danger.  All  save  the  lag 
ging  whale  instantly  sounded.  She  was  enjoy 
ing  the  food,  and  failed  to  regard  the  signal, 
and  the  Erin,  going  up  astern,  quietly  ap 
proached  her. 

On  account  of  a  whale's  peculiar  development, 

it  is  difficult  for  it  to  see  directly  ahead  or  astern, 

and  an  object  approaching  exactly  in  line  can 

do  so  quite  often  without  being  perceived  until 

[296] 


A    TRAGEDY 

within  close  range.  The  schooner  came  drifting 
slowly  down  upon  the  animal,  and  was  within 
thirty  fathoms,  when  the  big  bull  suddenly 
breached  a  short  distance  ahead,  the  little  fel 
low  who  had  been  under  his  care  being  with  him. 
Again  he  gave  the  sea  a  heavy  blow  with  his 
flukes  and  disappeared,  and  nothing  broke  the 
smooth  surface. 

But  the  young  cow  was  obstinate.  She  en 
joyed  the  food,  and  failed  to  note  how  close  the 
ship  had  approached.  Suddenly  the  mate 
straightened  himself  and  looked  along  the  can 
non  sights.  There  was  a  flash  and  a  loud  report, 
and  the  exploding  harpoon  was  launched  full  at 
the  broad  back  that  lay  drifting  almost  awash 
just  ahead.  The  heavy  missle  went  straight  to 
its  mark. 

"  Stand  by  to  haul  line ! "  came  the  order, 
while  the  mate  sprang  forward  and  slipped  an 
other  charge  into  the  harpoon  gun. 

The  line  whizzed  out  for  a  few  fathoms  before 
the  men  could  snub  it,  but  there  was  no  need  for 
[297] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

a  second  shot.  The  missile  had  done  its  work, 
and  the  stricken  cow  began  the  flurry  that  ends 
in  death.  Round  and  round  she  went  in  a  circle, 
convulsively  throwing  herself  clear  of  the  sea 
and  lashing  the  water  into  a  lather  with  her 
flukes.  Blood  dyed  the  foam  and  her  spiracles 
were  crimson.  Then  she  slowed  down,  and,  with 
a  few  shudders  of  her  great  frame,  lay  motion 
less. 

The  fluke  chain  was  gotten  out,  and  she  was 
soon  fast  alongside.  A  man  was  sent  aloft  to 
watch,  and  the  operation  of  removing  the  whale 
bone  blades  from  the  mouth  began.  While  this 
was  going  on,  the  rest  of  the  herd  did  not  run 
away  or  get  gallied.  The  big  bull  was  seen  ap 
proaching,  after  a  time ;  and,  for  an  hour,  while 
the  work  of  cutting  in  went  on,  he  came  up  re 
peatedly  at  a  short  distance  from  the  vessel. 
The  men  thought  little  of  this,  as  the  whale-food 
was  thick,  but  Jackson  pondered  at  the  strange 
ness  of  the  old  fellow's  behavior.  He  was  an  old 
whaleman,  and  knew  that,  at  the  death  of  one, 
[£98] 


A    TRAGEDY 

the  rest  of  a  school  usually  get  badly  gallied,  and 
seldom  wait  for  a  second  attack.  A  sperm  whale 
will  stand,  but  a  finback,  never;  and,  as  the  old 
bull  rose  again  and  again  close  aboard,  he 
watched  him  furtively  from  the  corner  of  his  eye 
while  superintending  the  work  overside.  In  spite 
of  the  fact  that  the  cow  was  fat,  the  blubber  was 
not  stripped.  She  was  cast  adrift  early  in  the 
afternoon,  having  yielded  a  mass  of  prime 
bone,  and  her  carcass  floated  astern,  to  be  de 
voured  by  the  countless  sharks  and  birds  that 
come,  apparently  by  magic,  from  the  void  of  sea 
and  sky. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  Erin 
started  ahead  again,  and  the  mate  took  his  place 
at  the  gun.  No  sooner  had  the  carcass  floated  a 
half-mile  distant  than  the  old  bull  was  seen  to 
swim  alongside  of  it.  The  schooner  was  turned 
slowly  around  and  headed  back  again. 

The  old  bull  had  come  up  to  the  carcass  and 
examined  it.  The  cow  was  quite  dead,  and  the 
fact  that  she  had  been  killed  by  the  stranger 
[299] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

gradually  became  clear  to  him.  Suspicion  be 
came  conviction  on  his  part,  and  he  turned 
toward  the  rest  of  his  charges  and  led  the  way 
straight  out  to  sea.  Away  out  toward  the 
Falkland  Islands  he  headed,  and  reluctantly  the 
rest  followed.  The  pace  was  increased  to  a 
rapid  gait,  and  soon  the  pursuing  vessel  was 
under  a  full  head  of  steam,  plowing  through 
the  heavy  swell  at  a  great  rate,  in  an  effort  to 
keep  the  flying  herd  in  sight.  The  sun  sank 
behind  the  ragged  peaks  to  the  westward,  and 
the  darkness  soon  put  a  stop  to  the  chase. 
Jackson  had  secured  one  of  the  herd,  but  the 
others  were  gallied  and  were  headed  offshore, 
where  they  disappeared  in  the  gathering  dark 
ness.  Soon  the  engine  was  rung  off  and  the  ves 
sel  put  under  easy  canvas  for  the  night,  while 
Jackson  walked  the  poop  and  gave  forcible  ex 
pression  to  his  opinion  of  the  old  coward  who  had 
so  ignominiously  run  away. 

Away  into  the  vastness  of  the  southern  ocean 
the  old  fellow  led  his  charges,  always  keeping  the 
[300] 


A    TRAGEDY 

little  whale  he  had  with  him  close  aboard.  He 
missed  the  mate  who  had  been  slain,  but  he  knew 
that  she  had  disregarded  his  warning.  He  had 
done  all  he  could.  Now  he  would  take  the  rest 
far  away  to  other  feeding  grounds,  and  the  ocean 
would  leave  no  trail  to  show  the  stranger  whither 
he  had  gone.  The  young  one  near  him  needed 
protection,  and  he  would  keep  him  close  until 
he  was  large  enough  to  look  out  for  himself.  On 
the  edge  of  Falkland  Channel  was  plenty  of  food 
at  that  season  of  the  year,  and  a  few  hundred 
miles  would  put  the  stranger  safely  out  of  sight. 
The  old  brain  longed  for  rest  and  quiet.  Strife 
was  a  useless  thing,  fit  only  for  the  young  and 
unthinking,  or  those  possessed  with  the  killing 
spirit. 

The  morning  dawned,  and,  as  the  sun  rose 
slanting  from  the  southern  ocean,  the  old  bull 
took  a  look  around.  Nothing  broke  the  even  line 
of  the  horizon,  and  then,  the  feeling  that  the 
stranger  had  been  left  behind  coming  upon  him, 
he  slowed  the  tremendous  pace.  One  hundred 
[301] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

miles  of  trackless  sea  had  been  placed  between 
him  and  the  rocks  of  Staten  Land. 

For  many  weeks  the  herd  cruised  to  the  north 
ward  of  the  Falkland  Islands,  the  old  bull  still 
keeping  the  young  whale  under  his  protecting 
care.  Finally  there  was  born  a  pretty  little  baby 
whale  with  rounded  lines,  weighing,  perhaps,  a 
little  more  than  half  a  ton.  A  pair  of  the  fierce 
"  killer "  sharks  soon  scented  the  tender  little 
fellow,  and  made  a  concerted  rush,  one  day,  to 
seize  him  before  the  older  whales  could  prevent ; 
but  the  bull  smote  one  a  blow  with  his  flukes  that 
crushed  him  as  flat  as  if  a  house  had  fallen  upon 
him,  and  the  other  took  flight.  He  was  a  watch 
ful  old  fellow,  and  had  to  keep  on  the  lookout 
night  and  day,  for  the  mother  whale  was  weak, 
and  would  recover  slowly. 

As  the  days  passed  the  weather  began  to 
change.  The  zone  of  the  "  variables,"  or  that  of 
the  "  roaring  forties,"  is  not  to  be  depended  upon 
long  for  sunshine  and  pleasant  breezes.  One  day 
it  started  in  for  a  gale  from  the  eastward,  and 
[302] 


A    TRAGEDY 

the  sea  was  white  with  rolling  combers.  The 
whale-food  was  driven  south,  and  the  animals 
were  forced  to  follow.  The  sun  shone  only  for 
a  short  time  each  day,  being  but  a  few  degrees 
above  the  sea  line,  and  the  high-rolling  sea  made 
life  upon  the  surface  uncomfortable.  The  bull 
headed  for  the  South  Orkney  Islands,  and  for 
days  the  little  band  of  giants  went  along  below 
the  surface,  only  coming  up  every  now  and  then 
to  breathe. 

As  they  made  their  way  southward,  the  wind 
grew  less  violent.  The  high  black  cliffs  of  the 
islands  offered  no  shelter  to  vessels,  but  to  the 
whales  the  lee  of  the  land  was  comfortable,  and 
the  sea  was  swarming  with  food.  There  they 
would  rest  a  while  and  take  life  easy,  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  hurricanes  from  Cape  Horn. 

The  old  bull  guided  the  band  among  the 
sunken  peaks,  and  for  weeks  they  fattened  under 
his  care,  when  one  bleak  morning  he  came  to  the 
surface  of  the  sea  and  noticed  a  black  shape  ap 
proaching.  There  was  something  strangely 
[303] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

familiar  in  the  outlines,  and,  after  watching  it 
for  some  minutes,  he  remembered  the  schooner 
Erin. 

She  was  heading  straight  toward  the  whales, 
and  was  going  slowly,  as  if  in  no  particular 
hurry,  and  upon  her  forecastle  was  the  same 
murderous  gun  which  had  slain  the  cow  near  Le 
Maire  Strait. 

The  young  whale,  who  was  in  company, 
breached  playfully  into  full  view  and  sounded. 
The  vessel  did  not  change  her  course,  but  headed 
straight  for  the  cow  with  the  newborn  calf,  who 
was  feeding  a  mile  distant  to  the  southward. 

The  old  bull  instantly  struck  the  water  with 
his  flukes  and  headed  for  her.  The  rest  of  the 
herd  took  notice  of  the  warning,  and  sank  from 
view ;  but,  whether  the  cow  failed  to  notice  it,  or 
her  young  one  was  disobedient,  it  was  too  late 
to  find  out.  The  schooner  made  a  sudden  spurt 
of  speed,  and,  coming  close  to  the  mother,  fired 
the  harpoon  into  her  before  she  fairly  realized 
what  was  taking  place. 

[304] 


A    TRAGEDY 

The  dull  boom  of  the  shot  told  the  old  whale 
what  had  happened,  before  he  came  up  to  look. 
When  he  arrived  within  a  hundred  fathoms,  the 
mother  was  in  her  last  agony,  and  her  little 
baby  was  being  towed  along  with  her,  being  un 
able  to  realize  its  mother's  death,  and  still  hold 
ing  to  her  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  child. 

The  old  bull  lay  watching  events,  and  once 
tried  to  make  the  little  fellow  let  go  by  giving 
the  sea  some  tremendous  slaps  with  his  flukes ; 
but  he  was  too  young  to  understand,  and,  while 
the  bull  watched,  a  boat  was  lowered  and  the 
sailors  began  their  work  of  destruction.  They 
rowed  slowly  toward  the  infant,  and  suddenly 
one  rose  in  the  bow  and  hurled  a  harpoon  into  his 
soft  baby  side.  The  little  fellow  gave  a  spring 
upward  in  his  agony.  A  man  quickly  pulled 
him  alongside  the  boat  and  another  drove  a 
lance  through  him. 

Jackson  was  standing  upon  the  poop,  looking 
on,  and  the  mate  was  on  the  forecastle,  loading 
the  gun  for  another  shot  when  an  opportunity 
[305] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

should  offer.  The  men  in  the  waist  were  over 
hauling  the  fluke  chain  to  make  fast  to  the  dead 
mother,  while  the  man  at  the  wheel  held  the 
spokes  idly.  The  skipper  turned  toward  him. 

"  Seems  to  me  that  that's  the  old  cowardly 
bull  we  fell  in  with  to  th'  no'th'ard ;  aint  it?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  it  looks  like  him  f er  sure,"  answered 
the  man ;  "  jest  see  him,  sir." 

As  they  looked,  the  great  whale  lay  watching 
the  men  in  the  boat.  His  old  oily  brain  was 
working,  and  the  rapid  events  of  the  last  few 
minutes  were  gradually  making  an  impression 
on  his  mind.  He  was  wondering  at  the 
slaughter,  and  could  hardly  understand  how  it 
was  done  so  quickly.  The  mother  had  been  a 
favorite  for  many  years,  yet  there  she  lay,  sud 
denly  dead  before  him.  Would  the  strange  craft 
follow  him  over  the  seas,  and  kill  off  the  herd 
one  by  one,  until  all  were  gone?  The  boat  ap 
proaching  the  young  whale  stirred  his  attention. 
He  smote  the  sea  savagely  with  his  flukes  to 
[306] 


A    TRAGEDY 

warn  him  of  the  danger.  Then  the  iron  went 
home,  and  the  little  fellow  was  dead  beside  his 
mother.  Something  flashed  suddenly  through 
the  old  brain.  The  pent-up  reserve  of  years 
seemed  to  give  way  within  him,  all  thought  of 
safety  fell  away,  and  the  old  feeling  of  the  con 
queror  rose  within  his  heart. 

"  Good  Lord,  what's  a-comin'?  "  gasped  Jack 
son. 

His  remark  was  not  addressed  to  anyone  in 
particular,  but  was  caused  by  a  terrific  com 
motion  in  the  sea  which  caused  the  men  to  drop 
their  gear  and  look  out  over  the  side  to  see  what 
was  taking  place. 

The  coward,  the  giant  bull  who  had  fled  so 
often  from  them,  was  heading  straight  for  the 
small  boat  and  was  tearing  the  southern  ocean 
into  foam  with  his  flukes.  Straight  as  a  harpoon 
from  the  gun  forward,  he  shot  with  tremendous 
speed,  hurling  his  hundred  tons  of  bone  and 
sinew  like  a  living  avalanche  upon  the  doomed 
craft. 

[307] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

"  Starn  all,"  was  the  hoarse  yell  from  the 
third  officer,  who  stood  upon  the  stern  sheets  and 
swung  madly  upon  the  steering  oar.  Men 
strained  their  necks  forward  over  the  schooner's 
rail  to  see.  The  unfortunate  men  at  the  oars  of 
the  whaleboat  struggled  wildly.  An  oar 
snapped.  There  was  a  wild  cry,  and  some 
sprang  up  to  dive  over  the  side  into  the  sea.  At 
that  instant  the  whale  leaped  high  in  the  air, 
clearing  the  water  fully  two  fathoms.  Then  he 
crashed  down  upon  the  boat,  wiping  all  out  in  a 
tremendous  smother  of  spray.  He  was  close  to 
the  Erin,  and  the  mate  stood  waiting.  There 
was  a  loud  report  as  Collins  fired  the  exploding 
harpoon  into  him,  taking  him  almost  "  on  the 
fly,"  as  it  were,  and  then  as  he  disappeared 
beneath  the  surface  there  was  a  heavy  jar  that 
shook  the  Erin  from  stem  to  stern.  She  had  been 
rammed. 

For  an  instant  not  a  man  aboard  moved.  Then 
Jackson,  with  a  face  as  white  as  chalk,  came  for 
ward  and  called  below  to  the  engineer. 
[308] 


A    TRAGEDY 

The  line  was  whizzing  out  upon  the  forecastle 
head,  showing  that  Collins  had  made  the  shot  of 
his  life.  He  had  struck  the  whale,  but  just  where 
he  had  no  idea.  He  stood  watching  the  line  as 
it  flaked  away  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  but 
said  no  word  to  the  men  to  have  it  snubbed.  He 
had  felt  the  heavy  jar  beneath  the  schooner's 
keel,  and  knew  what  it  meant  as  plainly  as  if  he 
had  seen  the  stroke. 

Two, — three, — four, — five  hundred  fathoms 
went  whirling  over  the  side,  and  silence  still 
reigned  aboard.  The  sea  had  smoothed  again 
where  the  whaleboat  had  been  a  few  moments  be 
fore,  but  the  only  signs  of  her  were  a  few  float 
ing  splinters.  Not  a  man  ever  appeared  again. 

Suddenly  the  strain  was  broken. 

"  Water  comin'  in  fast  below,  sir,"  was  the 
word  passed  on  deck. 

Jackson  walked  aft  as  if  in  a  dream.  The 
mate  left  the  gun,  and  the  last  fathom  of  the  line 
flaked  overboard  unheeded.  It  brought  up  sud 
denly,  taut  as  a  bowstring,  then  snapped.  The 
[309] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

mate  paid  not  the  least  attention  to  it,  but  went 
slowly  aft. 

"  Shall  we  provision  the  boats,  sir?  "  he  asked, 
as  he  approached  the  captain. 

Jackson  stared  at  him.  "  D'ye  know  what  it 
means  ?  "  asked  the  old  whaleman  huskily. 

The  mate  nodded.  Half  an  hour  later,  four 
boats  full  of  men  were  heading  northward  for  the 
Falkland  Islands,  and  the  only  thing  that  re 
mained  upon  the  spot  where  the  Erin  had  floated 
a  short  time  before  was  the  carcass  of  a  mother 
whale  with  her  baby  alongside,  while  above  them 
the  birds  hovered  and  screamed  as  if  to  mark  the 
grave  of  the  lost  ship. 

The  next  year  a  Scottish  whaleman  from  the 
Falklands  fell  in  with  an  old  bull  whale  whose 
starboard  side  bore  a  tremendous  wound,  partly 
healed.  He  was  so  wary,  however,  that  he  was 
soon  lost  sight  of,  and  the  school  that  followed 
him  gave  no  chance  for  a  catch. 


[310] 


IN  THE  WAKE  OF  TI1E 
WEATHERCLOTH 


IN    THE    WAKE    OF    THE    WEATHER- 
CLOTH 

WE  had  raised  the  great  tower  of  the 
Hatteras  lighthouse  in  the  dim  gray 
of  the  early   morning.      The  huge 
spark  flashed  and  faded  as  the  lens  swung  slowly 
about  its  axis  some  fifteen  miles  to  the  south'ard 
of  us.     Objects  now  began  to  be  more  distinct, 
and  our  masthead  could  be  made  out  against  the 
leaden  background  above.     Up  there  the  fierce 
song  of  the  gale  roared  dismally  as  the  little 
vessel  rose  upon  the  giant  Gulf  sea,  and  swung 
her  straining  fabric  to  windward.     Then,  quar 
tering  the  heave  of  the  foam-crested  hill,  she 
would  drop  slowly  down  that  dread  incline  and 
roll  desperately  to  leeward  as  she  started  to  meet 
the  rushing  hill  to  windward  and  above  her. 
With  a  bit  of  the  gaff  hoisted,  and  leach  and 
[313] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE     SEA 

luff  lashed  fast  down,  we  were  trying  to  fore- 
reach  to  the  eastward  and  clear  the  death-trap 
under  our  lee — the  fatal  diamond  of  the  Hat- 
teras  Shoals.  Buck  and  I  had  been  on  deck  all 
the  day  before,  and  all  night,  and  we  welcomed 
the  growing  light  as  only  hard-pressed  men  at 
sea  can  welcome  it.  It  meant  a  respite  from  the 
black  hell  about  us,  and  the  heavy  snore  of  some 
giant  comber  would  no  longer  make  us  catch 
our  breath  in  the  dread  it  might  be  the  begin 
ning  of  that  white  reach  where  no  vessel  that 
enters  comes  forth  again. 

We  could  see  we  had  many  miles  between  us 
and  the  end — miles  that  meant  many  minutes 
which  might  be  utilized  in  the  fight  for  life.  We 
were  heading  nearly  east  now,  and  the  stanch 
little  craft  was  making  better  than  south,  while 
the  gale  had  swung  up  to  nor'-nor'east.  She 
was  forereaching  ahead,  though  going  fast  to 
leeward,  and  it  looked  as  if  we  might  claw  off  into 
the  wild  Gulf  Stream,  where  in  spite  of  the  sea 
lay  safety.  To  leeward  lay  certain  death,  the 
[314.] 


WEATHER-CLOTH 

wild  death  of  a  lost  ship  in  the  white  smother 
that  rolled  with  the  chaotic  thunder  of  riven  hills 
of  water. 

Buck's  face  was  calm  and  white  in  the  morn 
ing  light,  and  his  oilskins  hung  about  him  in 
dismal  folds.  White  streaks  of  salt  showed 
under  his  eyes,  which  were  partly  sheltered  by  his 
sou'wester,  and  the  deep  lines  in  his  wet  cheeks 
gave  him  a  worn-out  look.  He  must  have  been 
very  tired,  for  as  I  came  from  behind  the  piece 
of  canvas  lashed  on  the  weather  quarter  to  serve 
as  a  weather-cloth,  he  left  the  wheel  and  dropped 
down  behind  the  bulwarks. 

"  Begins  to  look  better,"  I  bawled,  taking  off 
the  becket  from  the  wheel  spokes,  which  had  been 
hove  hard  down  all  night.  "  She  needs  a  bit  of 
nursing,"  and  Buck  nodded  and  grinned  as  he 
ducked  from  the  flying  drift. 

She  was  doing  well  now,  and  after  trying  to 

ease  her  a  while  I  put  the  wheel  back  in  the 

becket  and  bawled  down  the  scuttle  to  our  little 

black  boy  to  get  us  some  junk  and  ship's  bread. 

[315] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

Our  other  man,  John,  a  Swede,  had  turned  in 
dead  beat  out  an  hour  before,  and  as  we  four 
were  all  hands,  I  thought  it  just  as  well  to  let 
him  sleep  as  long  as  he  could.  As  master,  I 
would  have  to  stay  on  deck  anyway. 

Buck  and  I  crouched  in  the  lee  of  the  bulwarks 
and  tarpaulin,  munching  the  junk  and  watching 
the  little  ship  ride  the  sea.  We  could  do  nothing 
except  let  her  head  as  close  as  we  dared  to  the 
gale. 

As  long  as  the  canvas  held  all  would  be 
well.  The  close-reefed  mainsail  would  have  been 
blown  away  in  the  rush  of  that  fierce  blast,  and 
it  would  have  been  folly  to  try  to  drive  her  into 
that  appalling  sea.  If  anything  started  we  were 
lost  men.  She  was  only  a  twenty-ton  vessel,  but 
she  had  a  good  nine  feet  of  keel  under  her,  and 
could  hold  on  grimly.  We  had  used  a  sea  anchor 
for  twenty-four  hours,  but  while  it  held  her  head 
to  the  sea  it  caused  her  to  drift  dead  to  leeward, 
so  we  had  at  last  cut  it  adrift  and  put  a  bit  of 
storm  staysail  on  her  to  work  ahead. 
[316] 


WEATHER-CLOTH 

"  I'm  glad  we  didn't  run  durin'  the  night," 
said  Buck,  "  she  wouldn't  'a'  done  it  an'  gone 
clear — just  look  at  that  fellow !  " 

As  he  spoke  a  giant  sea  rose  on  the  weather 
beam,  a  great  mass  of  blue  water  capped  with  a 
white  comber.  The  little  vessel's  head  dropped 
down  the  foam-streaked  hollow  until  we  were  al 
most  becalmed  under  the  sea  that  followed.  A 
dirty,  dangerous  sea  to  run  in. 

"  I  thought  you  might  have  run  when  we  saw 
how  bad  it  was — an'  trust  to  luck  to  go  clear. 
But  fight  on,  says  I,  even  when  you  know  you're 
losing.  If  you'd  started  to  run  you'd  never  been 
able  to  swing  her  up  again  if  we'd  had  to — an' 
now  we'll  go  clear.  She'll  stand  it." 

Buck  was  an  American  and  John  a  Swede. 
The  latter  had  hinted  at  running  off  before  the 
storm  when  we  found  ourselves  close  in.  Buck 
cursed  him  in  my  presence  in  true  American 
fashion. 

"  Never  give  up  a  fight  because  you're  beat  at 
the  start,"  says  I.  "  It's  them  that  fights  when 
[317] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

they  have  to,  an'  because  it's  right,  that  always 
win.  We  did  seem  dead  beat  last  night,  an'  when 
that  light  flashed  out  bright  I  was  almost  willing 
to  say  Amen.  But  I  knew  it  ware  wrong,  an' 
we  must  fight  it  out.  A  man  that  fights  to  win 
is  no  sailor.  It's  him  that  fights  when  he  knows 
he  will  lose — an'  then  maybe  he  won't  lose  after 
all." 

The  sun  showed  a  little  through  a  break  in 
the  flying  scud,  and  the  water  looked  a  beautiful 
blue,  streaked  with  great  patches  of  white. 
Buck  was  gazing  hard  to  the  southward  and 
could  make  nothing  out  except  the  Hatteras 
Light.  He  was  tired,  and  refused  to  move 
from  a  wash  of  foam  along  the  deck  where  he 
sat. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  wiping  the  spray  from 
his  face,  "  a  man  can't  tell  nothin'  in  this  world. 
There's  no  use  tryin'  to  at  sea — an'  the  more 
you  risk  sometimes  the  more  you  win.  It  isn't 
always  judgment.  There  ware  old  man  Rich 
ards.  He  knew  the  coast,  but  he  trusted  his 
[318] 


WEATHER-CLOTH 

judgment  too  much — an'  I'm  the  bum  ye  see 
now.  I  don't  mean  nothin'  agin  your  boat, 
Cap'n. 

"  You  remember  Richards  ?  Had  the  ole 
Pocosin.  Used  to  run  her  from  Nassau  to 
Hunter's  P'int.  'Taint  much  of  a  run,  even  for 
that  kind  o'  hooker,  but  in  the  winter  this  Cape  is 
hell,  an'  that's  a  fact.  You  kin  almost  jump 
from  wrack  to  wrack  from  the  Core  Bank  to 
Bodic's  Island.  I've  seen  forty  vessels,  big  an* 
small,  on  the  beach  here  in  one  season — an'  we 
aint  out  o'  the  business  yet,  either." 

We  were  drifting  down  fast  on  the  outer  shoal, 
and  I  could  see,  or  fancy  I  could  see,  the  Ocra- 
coke  Lighthouse.  The  wind  had  increased  a 
little  with  sunrise  as  usual  in  a  northeaster,  but 
it  seemed  to  be  working  a  bit  more  to  the  north 
ward  and  getting  colder. 

"  It  was  just  such  a  day  as  this.     We  hove  the 

Pocosin  up  when  she  was  almost  in  sight  of  the 

Capes  and  not  ten  hours'  run  from  Norfolk.   But 

she  ware  ramming  her  nose  into  it  harder  and 

[319] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

harder,  an'  there  we  was.  We  couldn't  get  no 
farther. 

"  It  ware  pretty  bad  when  we  started  inshore, 
with  the  glass  a-fallin'  an'  the  sky  like  the  inside 
of  a  lead  pot.  Then  came  the  breeze  and  big 
northeast  sea  what  stopped  us. 

"  We  couldn't  push  her  through  that  sea.  It 
was  more'n  common  heavy,  and  even  with  the 
whole  mainsail  on  her  she  wouldn't  do  a  thing 
but  rear  up  on  her  hind  legs  an'  throw  herself 
into  it  so  she'd  go  out  o'  sight  to  her  foremast. 
Man,  she  ware  an'  old  boat,  an'  if  she'd  kept  the 
racket  up  she'd  have  split  in  two ! 

"  We  could  see  Cape  Henry  light  by  dark,  but 
it  warn't  no  use,  so  we  wore  around  before  it  ware 
too  late  an'  got  the  foresail  an'  jib  stowed  safe. 
Then  we  came  to  on  the  port  tack,  lowering  down 
the  mainsail  and  reefing  it  to  balance  the  bit  o' 
staysail  forrads.  'Twas  a  piece  o'  work  takin' 
in  that  mainsail,  an'  that's  the  truth.  You  may 
search  me  if  it  didn't  fair  blow  the  hair  off  yer 
head  by  this  time.  I  don't  mind  a  bit  o'  breeze, 
[320] 


WEATHER-CLOTH 

Cap'n,  but  when  I  say  it  ware  blowin'  then,  it 
aint  more'n  half  the  truth.  It  ware  fair  howlin'. 

"  We  got  the  sail  on  the  boom,  and  then  that 
same  boom  took  charge  for  twenty  red-hot  min 
utes  while  she  threw  it  from  port  to  starboard — 
an'  all  hands  hangin'  onto  the  mainsheet  tryin'  to 
get  it  in  when  it  slacked  with  the  throw. 

"  '  Balance-reef  her,'  says  the  old  man,  an'  we 
lashed  her  down,  givin'  about  ten  feet  o'  leach 
rope  hoisted  taut  with  the  peak  downhaul  fast  to 
windward.  Then  everything  was  made  snug,  an' 
with  the  bit  o'  staysail  hauled  to  the  mast  we 
hung  on  to  see  what  would  happen  next." 

Buck  rose  for  a  minute  and  gazed  steadily  to 
the  southward  as  though  he  had  seen  something. 
Then  he  settled  down  again. 

"  Me  ?  I  was  mate,  you  know.  I'd  been  with 
Richards  over  a  year.  He  had  his  wife  an' 
daughter  aboard  that  trip — yessir — about  as  fine 
— she  was  about  seventeen." 

A  sea  struck  the  vessel  while  Buck  was  looking 
to  leeward,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  it  as  the 
[321  ] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

spray  filled  his  collar.  He  seemed  to  be  so  deeply 
occupied  in  some  object  that  I  began  to  get  a  bit 
nervous,  and  reached  for  the  glasses  to  try  and 
pick  out  a  new  danger.  But  he  evidently  saw 
nothing,  for  he  went  on  slowly  after  a  bit. 

"  There  were  six  of  us  men  and  a  little  coon 
boy  in  the  galley.  It  gave  us  three  men  in  a 
watch,  an'  that  ware  enough.  I  saw  we  were 
goin'  to  the  south'ard  fast,  the  sea  was  northerly 
yet,  but  the  wind  was  working  fast  to  the  east 
ward  and  we  waren't  reaching  off  a  little  bit. 
She  was  heavy  with  lumber  an'  goin'  sideways 
like  a  crab — not  shoving  her  nose  ahead  like  we 
are  now.  It  was  dead  to  leeward,  and  you  know 
how  that  is  to  the  north'ard  of  Core  Bank  or 
Lookout. 

"  The  old  man  had  the  wheel  fast  hard  down 
and  was  standin'  there  watchin'  her  take  them 
seas.  It  was  growing  dark  an'  them  fellers 
from  the  Gulf  looked  ugly.  They  just  wiped 
her  clean  from  end  to  end,  roarin'  over  her  an' 

smotherin'  everything. 

Laoo  1 
OtiiKi  J 


WEATHER-CLOTH 

"  '  We  got  to  fight  fer  it  to-night,'  said  I. 
'  Better  try  the  close-reefed  mainsail  before  it's 
too  late.  A  bit  o'  fore-reachin'  an'  we'll  clear.' 

"  '  'Twon't  stand,'  says  he,  '  'twon't  stand  ten 
minutes  in  this  breeze.  Let  her  go.  If  she  won't 
go  clear  we'll  run  her  fer  Ocracoke.  It's  high 
water  at  eight-bells  to-night.' 

"  That  may  have  been  good  judgment,  but 
you  know  that  entrance  is  a  warm  place  at  night 
in  a  roarin'  northeaster.  I  got  a  bit  nervous  an' 
spoke  up  again  after  an  hour  or  two. 

"  '  Better  try  her  with  the  mainsail ;  we've  got 
to  fight  her  off,'  I  said  again. 

"  '  'Taint  no  use,'  said  he.  '  Let  her  go.  A 
man  never  dies  till  his  time  comes.' 

"  I'd  heard  that  sayin'  before,  but  I  never 
knew  just  how  a  feller  could  reckon  on  his  time. 
Seemed  to  me  somebody's  was  comin'  along  be 
fore  daylight.  Finally  I  kept  on  asking  the 
old  man  an'  argufyin' — for  there  was  the  two 
women — an'  he  gave  in.  Before  twelve  that 
night  we  had  her  under  a  single  reef  and  shovin' 
[323] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

off  for  dear  life.  It  ware  blowin'  harder  now,  an5 
the  first  thing  away  went  that  staysail.  Then 
we  tried  a  bit  o'  jib,  but  she  gave  a  couple  o' 
plunges  and  drove  her  head  under  a  good 
fathom.  When  she  lifted  it  up  the  jib  ware 
gone. 

"  There  we  ware  with  the  old  hooker  a- 
broachin'  to  an'  no  head  sail  on  her.  The  seas 
ware  comin'  over  her  like  a  cataract  and  the  dull 
roar  soundin'  louder  an'  louder.  There  ware  the 
two  women  below 

"  Still  the  fight  waren't  half  over.  Ther  ware 
the  new  foresail  to  close  reef.  It  would  have 
held  an  hour  or  two.  That  would  have  driven 
us  off  far  enough  to  have  gone  through  the 
slue.  But  no.  The  old  man  had  had  enough. 

"  '  Take  in  the  mainsail,'  he  bawled,  and  all 
hands  wrastled  for  half  an  hour  with  that  sail 
while  all  the  time  we  were  goin'  fast  to  the 
south'ard.  '  Close  reef  foresail,'  says  he ;  '  we'll 
try  an'  run  her  through.'  Then  he  took  the 
lashin's  off  the  wheel. 

[324] 


WEATHER-CLOTH 

"  There  ware  no  use  sayin'  nothin'  more.  We 
ware  hardly  able  to  speak  as  it  was.  We  put 
the  peak  o'  that  foresail  on  her  an'  the  old  man 
ran  the  wheel  hard  up.  It  ware  near  daybreak 
now,  and  she  paid  off  an'  streaked  away  before 
it  through  a  roarin'  white  sea.  Just  as  she 
struck  her  gait  we  saw  the  flash  o'  the  Hatteras 
Light, 

"  The  old  man  saw  it.  It  ware  bright  enough 
for  all  hands.  So  bright  my  heart  gave  one  big 
jump  an'  then  seemed  to  stop.  There  ware  the 
two  women  below,  the  girl — we  tore  along  into 
the  night  with  six  men  an'  one  little  black  boy 
holdin'  on  to  anything  they  could  an'  lookin' 
out  over  the  jib-boom  end — 

Buck  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  went 
on. 

"  It  had  to  come.  I  saw  it  first.  Just  a 
great  white  spout  o'  foam  in  the  blackness  ahead. 
It  ware  the  outer  edge  o'  the  Diamond  Shoal." 

Buck's  voice  died  away  in  the  roar  about  us 
and  close  as  I  was  to  him  I  could  hear  nothing 
[325] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

he  said,  though  I  saw  his  lips  move.  I  went  to 
the  binnacle  and  peered  into  it.  The  lighthouse 
was  drawing  to  the  westward.  The  roar  aloft 
was  deepening  as  she  swung  herself  to  windward, 
but  she  was  making  good  weather  of  it  and  hold 
ing  on  like  grim  death." 

"  How  did  you  get  through?  "  I  asked,  duck 
ing  down  again  behind  the  shelter. 

"  We  didn't.  We  didn't  get  through.  The 
Pocosln's  there  yet — or  what's  left  of  her.  One 
more  hour  of  fightin'  off  under  that  reefed  fore 
sail  an'  we'd  have  got  to  sea — we'd  have  gone 
clear.  There  waren't  nothin'  happened — just  a 
smashing  crash  in  the  night.  Man,  ye  couldn't 
hear  or  see  nothin'.  Both  masts  gone  with  the 
first  jolt,  an'  up  she  broaches  to  a  sea  what 
was  breakin'  clear  out  in  seven  fathoms.  I  tried 
to  get  aft — good  God!  I  tried  to  get  to  the 
companion " 

Buck  was  looking  steadily  to  leeward  and  the 
drift  was  trickling  out  of  his  eyes. 

When  he  turned  he  smiled  and  his  tired  face 
[326] 


WEATHER-CLOTH 

looked  years  older  as  he  wiped  it  with  the  cuff  of 
his  oilskin.  The  gale  roared  and  snored  over 
head,  but  breaks  in  the  flying  scud  told  that  the 
storm-center  was  working  to  the  northward  and 
the  cold  meant  it  would  go  to  stay. 

"  I  don't  know  but  what's  that's  so  about  a 
feller  not  goin'  till  his  time  comes,  Cap'n.  I 
came  in  the  next  day  on  a  bit  o'  the  mainmast,  a 
little  more  dead  than  alive,  but  I'm  tellin'  you 
fairly,  Cap'n,  if  it  waren't  fer  you  an'  your  little 
ship,  I'd  just  as  soon  have  gone  to  leeward  this 
mornin'.  A  feller  gets  sort  o'  lonesome  at  times 
— especially  when  he's  got  no  ties — 

"  Haven't  you  any?  "  I  asked    cheerfully. 

Buck  looked  slowly  up  and  his  eyes  met  mine. 
They  rested  there  for  a  moment.  His  lips  moved 
for  a  little,  but  I  heard  nothing  he  said.  Then 
he  let  his  gaze  droop  to  the  deck  planks  and 
bowed  his  head. 

A  long  time  he  sat  there  while  I  watched  the 
lighthouse  draw  more  and  more  to  the  westward. 
Suddenly  he  looked  up. 

[327] 


THE    STRIFE    OF    THE    SEA 

"  She's  all  clear  now,  sir,  an'  if  you  say  so 
I'll  go  below  an'  start  a  bit  o'  fire." 

"  Go  ahead,  and  tell  Arthur  to  come  here  ?  "  I 
said. 

I  watched  him  as  he  staggered  below.  He 
was  tired  out,  wet,  and  despondent.  The  fate 
of  the  Pocosin  was  too  evident  for  me  to  ask 
questions.  I  respected  him  for  not  mentioning 
the  girl  again.  It  was  evident  what  she  had 
been  to  him.  It  was  long  ago,  but  the 
memory  was  fresh  before  him.  He  was  passing 
near  the  grave  of  the  one  woman  he  had  loved, 
and  there  was  more  than  the  salt  drift  in  his  eyes 
as  he  went  down  the  companion.  In  a  few 
minutes  a  stream  of  black  smoke  poured  from  the 
funnel  in  the  deck  and  was  whirled  away  to  lee 
ward.  Soon  the  smell  of  frying  bacon  was  swept 
aft,  and  I  went  below  to  a  warm  breakfast  to  be 
followed  by  a  nap,  while  the  plunging  little 
vessel  rode  safely  into  the  great  Gulf  sea.  We 
had  gone  past  the  graveyard  of  the  Diamond 
Shoals. 

[328] 


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